


Dragonsong

by LunaTiel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura & Lance (Voltron) are Siblings, Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Dragonriders, Dragons, Found Family, Gen, High Fantasy, Inheritance AU, Legend of Zelda References, Married Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Platonic Relationships, Princess Zelda is a Queen, Voltron Lions as Dragons, some blood and violence, sword and sorcery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-01-25 09:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaTiel/pseuds/LunaTiel
Summary: The lands of Avindron were once protected by an order of knights that rode on the backs of dragons. Then, some two hundred years ago, the order was destroyed from within. The Galra emperor Zarkon, along with a handful of defectors, led a joint attack on the rider’s stronghold and the capital of Altea, destroying both the citadel and the city itself.In the ensuing chaos, Princess Allura of Altea, along with her adviser Coran, managed to save three eggs from destruction. However, Altea was lost, and what remained of the riders were scattered and hunted. Allura was forced to flee, and has since been gathering allies to strike back against Emperor Zarkon before all of the remaining kingdoms are under his control. She now knows a fourth egg is in Zarkon’s possession. Allura and her allies make a plan to rescue the egg before it can hatch for the Galra empire.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 15





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first fanfiction project! 
> 
> This story is more or less a fantasy retelling of Voltron: Legendary Defender that follows the general throughline of the plot without sticking strictly to the details. The parallels to the events of the Inheritance Cycle are loose. Elements of the Legend of Zelda have also made their way into the story, but they mostly serve the aesthetic and themes with little effect on the progression of the plot.
> 
> The first part of the story focuses on the forming of the Paladins and how they grow to become a good team. It is a tale of adventure, magic, and of course, dragons.
> 
> I am very passionate about writing and am always seeking to improve. Any feedback is much appreciated. Thank you so much for giving my story a chance, and I hope you enjoy the journey!

Shiro opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. He was sitting on a dirt floor slumped against a cold stone wall, hard and rough against his back. The room was dark, the outlines of the walls dimly lit by a single barred window set so high it nearly touched the ceiling. The air smelled of damp earth, blood, and worse. Somewhere close by, Shiro could hear a quiet shuffling noise, followed by a muffled cough. Though he wanted nothing more than to forget, to close his eyes again and return to the oblivion of sleep, Shiro remembered where he was. A Galra prison.

Now that he was awake, there was really only one distraction; pacing the narrow confines of his cell. Groaning, Shiro forced his stiff muscles to move. He made to push himself to his feet, only to stumble in shock as his right arm failed to support him. With rising alarm, he realized he could no longer feel any sensations from his hand. He looked down and gasped.

His arm was gone.

In a panic, Shiro grasped at the empty space where his arm should be, sure this must be some hallucination. His left hand closed over the stump and he cried out. That sharp surge of pain was undeniably real. 

With that pain came a flash of memory; A strange chimeric monster, with four reptilian legs, wicked spines covering its back, and a sharp snapping beak. Shiro had faced that beast with nothing but one of its own discarded spines as a weapon. He felt a shudder go through him as he remembered the creature clamping its beak around his arm, lifting him violently off the ground. He’d managed to summon enough strength to stab it in the eye, sending it crashing back down to earth, but the creature still had not loosened its hold on him. Trapped, Shiro had beaten helplessly against the creature’s head with his fist until he blacked out. 

Perhaps the creature had never let go, and the guards had to cut him loose from its beak, or his arm had been so mangled there was no use in trying to save it. The details hardly mattered. His days as a soldier were over.

Shiro gave a bitter laugh, sinking back against the wall of his cell. _ As if it wasn’t already over. _

Unbidden, Shiro’s eyes slid to the ring on his remaining hand, the only thing the Galra had not taken from him. It was a plain steel band, practical for a soldier used to frequent combat, and of little monetary value. It stood only as a promise. A promise Shiro could no longer keep.

The thought of Adam filled Shiro with an aching sorrow so intense he could hardly bear it. _ You begged me not to go, but I had to. We had to try. _

When the Coalition discovered the Galra Empire was in possession of another dragon egg, they had been desperate to act before the egg could hatch for Zarkon’s army. Shiro saw now it was this desperation that proved to be their undoing. The Galra were ready for them. Not a single one of his men had escaped the ambush. Shiro didn’t even know how many might be left alive, forced to work in a labor camp, or thrown into an arena as he was, fighting deformed monsters for the entertainment of their enemies.

Shiro knew it was useless to fight. He was going to die here. Today, tomorrow, a week from now. There was no escape. Yet it was not in Shiro to give up. Every dark creature he killed in the arena was one less his comrades would have to face. His sword arm may be gone, but his left arm was still strong. He still had both his legs. He would do his part until his very last breath.

Footsteps echoed down the passageway. Shiro did not look up. Only when the door to his cell creaked open did Shiro spare a glance for the approaching soldiers. 

There were three, all unmistakably Galra. Shiro glared at them out of the corner of his eye, making no move to stand or speak. 

“Get up!” one said roughly. “It’s back to the pit for you.”

Using the wall as leverage, Shiro pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled forward, his legs still a bit unsteady, and allowed the guards to lead him out into the passage. Shiro knew from experience if he were to attack them now, he would not get far before more barred his way. He needed to conserve his energy for what was coming. The torches lining the walls seemed impossibly bright, sending shoots of pain through his head. He stiffened as another guard, impatient with his slow pace, gripped him firmly by the arm and began to drag him forward.

As they walked, Shiro focused on preparing himself for the fight ahead. He would not be given a weapon until he was already in the arena, if he would be given one at all. Shiro would have to be quick, searching the pit for anything he could use to his advantage, all while learning what his opponent was capable of.

The incline of the floor steepened, telling Shiro they were nearing the tunnel that led to the pit. He took a deep slow breath. This could very well be his last battle. He was going to make it memorable.

_ I may not know what I’m facing, but every creature has a weakness. _

There it was, the entrance to the tunnel. Shiro entered into the dark passage, followed closely by the guards. The Galra holding his arm had not loosened his grip. Soon Shiro could see two small slivers of light up ahead, marking the gate that would open out into the arena. They came to a stop. All around him, Shiro could hear the steady rumble of the waiting spectators. After a few more moments of tension, the gears of the gate began to move, and the tunnel was flooded with light. Shiro felt the hand on his arm tighten. Then he was shoved unceremoniously into the blinding light of the pit. 

Blinking furiously, he shielded his eyes with his arm, trying to gather his wits before he was set upon by whatever foul creature was being released into the other end of the pit. The roar of the crowd was strangely absent, as if everyone was holding their breath. 

A long slow scraping sound came from somewhere to the left. Shiro turned his head, falling into a defensive crouch. He had only seconds to move before a huge pair of jaws struck forward. They snapped shut where he had just been standing as Shiro threw himself to the side, stumbling painfully to the ground. Now the crowd had found its voice, jeering at him from high above the pit. The sound washed over him, overwhelmingly loud. Shiro fought to recover, looking up to get his first full look at the creature he was up against.

The sight sucked the breath from his lungs.

The dragon was enormous. It towered over him, nearly as tall as the walls of the pit. The scales of its hide were jet black, as were the spikes that rose from its head and down its back, ending in a particularly large set of spines at the end of its tail. Each talon sported a set of wickedly sharp stone-gray claws. It bared its fangs in a snarl, pale violet eyes piercing straight through Shiro. Those eyes shone with an intensity he had never seen before. Strong, ancient, unfathomable. In the face of such a gaze, Shiro felt tiny and insignificant, no more than an insect in the dirt. He felt a wave of anger and violence from those eyes, the force of the dragon’s consciousness pinning him to the spot. 

This was Zarkon’s dragon. Which meant Emperor Zarkon was here somewhere, watching.

Shiro had no time to search the stands. He had to deal with the dragon. A glow was beginning to build between the dragon’s teeth, and Shiro spurred himself into action. He pushed himself up, gravel digging into the palm of his hand, and ran. He felt the blast of heat from the dragon’s flames, narrowly avoiding a blow from its tail, which sent a shower of stones into the air as it struck the ground. Shiro covered his head with his arm as he continued to run. He dove around a boulder to avoid another jet of flame, fighting hard to catch his breath.

He could not keep this up for long. The dragon was so large there was barely any room for him to maneuver. If he had something to buy him time, something he could use to defend himself. He cast his eyes about the pit, but there was nothing. Only gravel and rock. Shiro began to realize what he should have known immediately; he was not meant to stand a chance against Zarkon’s dragon. The crowd wasn’t here to watch a man fight a monster. They were here to watch a dragon play with its food.

The rock shuddered behind him. Shiro hastily whirled around and backed away as the dragon wrenched the rock out of the earth with a swipe of its foreleg, sending it skidding across the gravel to crash into the wall of the pit. As it turned to face him again, he bent down and picked up a sizeable stone, winding back to throw it. There was a cascade of laughter from the stands. Fully aware of the futility of his actions, Shiro locked eyes with his foe. _ I’ll have to hit it right in the eye. _

His aim was true, but the dragon whipped its head down at the last second, causing the stone to bounce off one of its horns and into the stands. In answer, the dragon sent another blast of fire.

This time the edge of the flames caught the hem of Shiro’s tunic, forcing him to roll to the ground to put them out. Agony flared in the raw stub of his right arm. With a monumental effort, he rolled back onto his feet, picking up another stone as he did so. He hurled it blindly at the dragon. The stone glanced harmlessly off its dark scales. Undeterred, Shiro bent to pick up a third stone.

A strong voice resonated from the stands, cold and commanding. “Enough of this.”

Before Shiro could attempt another throw, a sudden force hit him full in the back. He cried out and fell to his knees as intense pain lanced through his whole body. It felt as if his every nerve were on fire. When it finally abated, Shiro found himself lying curled on the ground. Dazed, he tried to move, groaning with the effort. He felt so weak. His legs didn’t seem to want to move, and his arm did not have the strength to lift him up. Closing his eyes, he sank back down into the gravel, helpless.

The ground shuddered with the footsteps of the dragon. Any moment now, it was going to crush him, or its fire would rain down upon him, and then it would eat him. The dragon was looking right at him. He could tell. The pressure of its awareness was bearing down on him like a weight. Any moment now, it would be over. Shiro hoped it would be quick.

Not for the first time, he thought of the people he had left behind, the people he would never see again. _ Iverson, Allura, Coran, Keith… _

_ Adam. _

_ I’m so sorry... _

And then he thought of the egg. _ We were so close... _

Shiro hoped bitterly the egg would never hatch for the Galra, that it would not be doomed to life in a pit feeding off prisoners and slaves. The egg could not be allowed to remain in Zarkon’s hands. Would the Coalition make another attempt to rescue it? Perhaps after losing so many men, they would just give up and content themselves with the eggs they had already managed to save.

He felt the dragon’s breath ruffle his hair. It was less than an arms length away from him. Yet its presence felt different somehow. Shiro forced himself to open his eyes, turning his head to look up into the menacing face of the dragon. What he saw had him transfixed. Its pale violet eyes still bore down on him just as strongly, but they no longer radiated hatred. There was a deep intelligence in those eyes, and an urgency. Shiro was suddenly given a strong mental image of an egg. Bright as an ember, its smooth surface was a vibrant red marbled with black. Shiro was in no doubt this was the red dragon egg he was tasked to find. They were exactly the same, down to the last detail.

A shadow fell over Shiro as the dragon raised its wings, bringing them down with a mighty woosh of air. Shiro hardly felt it. A current seemed to be passing between himself and the dragon. The image of the egg was so strong now it seemed to be burned behind his eyes. 

_ The red dragon egg. It - no, she - knows about the egg. _

A single word formed in his mind, in a voice that was not his.

_ Help. _

Shiro flinched as the dragon suddenly dove forward and scooped him up in her jaws. He kept his eyes shut tight, expecting to be crushed between her teeth. Her wings began to beat the air more strongly now. The wind whirled around them both, drowning out the shouts and screams of the crowd.

“What are you doing? Kill him!”

The voice was booming, yet it sounded so distant in the rushing of the air. Soon there was no sound at all but the wind in his ears. It whipped past him so forcefully Shiro found it hard to breathe. And then he understood.

They were flying.

Shiro forced his eyes open and gasped as he saw the tiny circle of the pit far below them. All around the pit sprawled the buildings and tents of the Galra compound. His eyes watering in the chill wind, Shiro tried to see if they were being followed. They were well out of range of any arrows, but Shiro had a feeling the wyverns would be deployed before long.

It was very uncomfortable being held in the dragon’s jaws. Between her breath and the wind whipping past, Shiro did not know whether to feel hot or cold. Her teeth and barbed tongue pricked his skin through his threadbare clothes. He wondered how much longer he would have to endure this before she decided to release him.

He had no doubt where they were going. The black dragon was headed straight for the egg. Her egg. Shiro could not have described to anyone how he knew this. He just _ knew. _

The black dragon flew faster than he could have imagined possible. They quickly left the compound behind and were soon descending over the foothills toward the shrine in the mountains. Before he knew it, the black dragon was alighting on the roof of the building. Digging her claws into the timbers, she began to tear it apart with her talons, raking aside the debris and scattering it around the yard below the building. Attendants raced out of the structure, fleeing in terror down the mountain path. The dragon was unconcerned by them. When she had made a sizeable hole in the roof, she snaked her head into the room and deposited Shiro on the floor. 

Shiro lay there for a moment, dazed, exhausted, and still in quite a bit of pain. Eventually he managed to push himself to a sitting position and observe the room.

The chamber was almost the same as it was when Shiro’s company had first found it. A door was set in every wall, two doors opposite each other painted a bright fiery red. One of these bright doors led to the entrance room, and the other to what Shiro assumed was another sacred chamber room, or perhaps storage. There were several small cabinets along the walls, the same vivid red. Here and there on the floor were broken tiles and timbers from the torn roof. The middle of the room was raised in three tiers of polished wood, miraculously clean of debris. In the very center of this lay the egg, undisturbed upon its cushion. 

Shiro glanced nervously at the doors. When he’d last arrived in this room, three of those doors had burst open, surrounding his company with fifty Galra soldiers. No such ambush was awaiting him this time.

Getting laboriously to his feet, Shiro looked around for something to carry the egg. Eventually he found a satchel that looked the right size, as well as a length of ornamental cloth to wrap it in for safety. The dragon was watching him placidly from above. She seemed to have decided he was trustworthy for now, but Shiro did not want to test her goodwill by mishandling her young. His hand was shaking as he folded the cloth around the egg, nudging it into the satchel as best he could with one arm. 

A chorus of piercing shrieks rent the air, and Shiro ducked reflexively. The wyverns were here.

The dragon reared her head, answering with a roar that seemed to rattle the earth itself. She unleashed a torrent of fire into the sky. Another shriek and a crash told Shiro one of the wyverns had been killed. The others circled the dragon, while their riders shot arrows and hurled spears at her. Most merely glanced off her scales, but several tore through her wing membranes. She snarled, releasing another burst of violet flames.

Shiro pressed against the wall, shielding the egg with his body as stray projectiles rained down through the opening in the roof. The building shuddered as the dragon took to the air, drawing the wyverns away. Shiro was left kneeling amid the wreckage of the old temple, the egg clutched tightly to his chest. He waited in silence, listening for any sign of the dragon returning.

It slowly began to dawn on Shiro that he might actually get out of this alive. He felt a rush of hope that almost brought tears to his eyes. Getting back up to his feet, Shiro hung the satchel over his shoulder and began to search the room more thoroughly for anything that could be of use. There was not much in the chamber itself, but when he went out into the entrance room he found rope, a small knife, and best of all, a cabinet stocked with food and water. 

Shiro took as much of the food as he could carry, situating himself where he could clearly see anyone entering the room with plenty of time to react. The bread was stale and tasteless, but he did not care. He could not remember when he’d last eaten. 

The minutes turned to hours as Shiro waited, alone with the egg. It felt warm against his side even through the cloth. He smiled to himself, comforted by the feeling. Then he heard the faint sound of wingbeats in the air. Shiro got up and made his way to the entrance, peering out onto the deserted yard in front of the temple. Those wingbeats could be from the black dragon, or a troop of wyverns. He was not about to risk coming out into the open until he knew for sure.

A low roar sounded through the air. Despite the harshness of the sound, Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. That was no wyvern call. The black dragon was returning. 

Outside the sky had begun to darken. The first stars of evening could be seen winking against a blanket of pink and blue. Overhead, the shadowy dragon grew larger as she approached, like a herald of the coming night. She descended slowly, landing with surprising grace in front of the building. Shiro was surprised to see she was almost unscathed from her fight. Rivulets of blood oozed from the tears in her wings, but she did not seem bothered by these small wounds. 

As Shiro descended the steps to meet her, she fixed him in her piercing gaze and settled herself down onto the ground, flat on her belly with her head held low. At first Shiro was baffled by this, then he understood.

She wanted him to ride her.

Despite everything he had just gone through, Shiro still felt some trepidation at the idea of riding home on the back of a dragon. _ Zarkon’s dragon. _

The black dragon snorted impatiently, making Shiro jump. He looked into her keen violet eyes and realized he was being foolish. _ How else would I get back with the egg? The nearest Coalition stronghold is weeks away on foot. I’d never make it. _

Shiro pushed aside his doubts and approached the dragon. Since he only had one hand to grip with, he bound the egg to his chest as tightly as he could, leaving no chance it would fall while they were in the air. Even with her lying down, the top of the dragon’s back was still outside of easy reach. She seemed to understand this, and extended her wing to help him climb up. 

Her scales were smooth and hard to grip, but eventually Shiro made it to the top of her back. He perched there nervously, deciding the safest place to sit, hoping the dragon would not take off before he was ready. This was going to be nothing like flying a loftwing, or even a gryphon. Eventually he settled into a small depression in front of her muscular shoulders. As soon as he did this, the dragon stood up to her full height and unfurled her wings. Startled, Shiro felt himself slip and grasped the spike in front of him for support. The dragon twisted her neck to fix him with a reproachful look.

Despite himself, Shiro laughed in the face of her gaze. “Go easy on me, alright? I’ve had a very bad week.”

The dragon seemed to accept this. She gave a single slow blink and turned to face forward once again. Shiro made sure to hold on tight as the dragon approached the edge of the mountain path and leapt from the edge. They fell several yards before the dragon lifted upward with a massive downstroke of her powerful wings. 

As they sped off into the coming night, Shiro gripped the spine in front of him with grim tenacity. They were going to make it. 

He was going home. 

\- - - - -

High in the mountains to the north, at the very edge of Avindron, stood the Castle of Lions. It lay enfolded within the rocks and trees of the mountain, the moss and ivy that choked the walls hiding the full majesty of the castle beneath. Only the outer gate and five circular towers were visible from the outside. The rest was sheltered inside the mountain. It was as remote a location as could be hoped for, the perfect place to hide an army.

Princess Allura walked out into the shadowy courtyard, her cloak wrapped snugly to fend off the predawn chill. Most of the castle was still asleep. The only activity came from the guards upon the wall and a group of trainee knights performing drills in the nearby practice yard. Otherwise, the morning was quiet and still. 

Though she was shrouded in a cloak, several of the guards on the wall recognized Allura. They acknowledged her with a silent salute, but did not otherwise intrude upon her solitude. For that Allura was grateful. She had come here to think. 

Her dreams had been troubled for many weeks. Images of a shadow from the south. There could be no doubt what that meant. Zarkon must be on the move again. 

Despite all her years of planning, Allura knew she was not ready to face him again. The bloody years after the destruction of Altea had taught her that. Zarkon’s army was vast, growing every day, and even without that, there was his dragon. In the face of their wrath, all Allura could do was flee to the furthest reaches of the kingdom. That was when she found the castle. She and the other refugees had made their new home there, and for a long while they had been safe.

But Allura had not come to this place to hide herself forever. She knew Zarkon would not rest until all of Avindron was under his dominion. Even then he would not stop. The Coalition would have to fight back. The only hope they had was with the eggs Allura and her allies had gathered in the two hundred years since Altea’s fall. 

The blue egg, carried to them in the satchel of a strange traveler; the golden egg, protected by Hira, an Altean smith and the Coalition’s current weaponsmaster; and the green egg, the egg which Allura herself had managed to save from the Night of Fire. So far none of these eggs had accepted a rider. Countless generals, soldiers, diplomats, and magicians were brought before them, and all had been rejected. The Coalition was growing ever more desperate to find a candidate one of the eggs would accept. If they wanted to stand a chance against the Galra, they needed to rebuild the Paladins.

_ If the red egg hatches first, if Zarkon gains another dragon, no army of ours can prevail. _

Allura looked down to the mosaic at her feet. When she had found this place, it was in a state of disrepair, covered in moss and creeping vines, with few signs of those who once lived there. The only relics of that time were a handful of faded murals and this vast circular mosaic. It was an intricate piece made of polished stone, depicting the head of a white lion. Particular care had been taken with the eyes. They were made of some sort of crystalline material that reflected the light in a way that made them appear to glow. When she found herself looking into those eyes, Allura felt as if they were alive, as if they were trying to tell her something. 

The sound of a horn, startlingly loud, shocked Allura out of her reverie. She was immediately on guard. The soldiers along the wall were moving rapidly, talking amongst each other and pointing out toward the horizon. Fighting a rising anxiety, Allura tugged her hood more securely over her silver-white hair, and turned to return to the safety of the keep. She had only ever heard that horn once before, and it had been to signal the approach of wyvern scouts. If the scouts had returned, no one should linger outside, least of all her.

Allura had no sooner closed the door when she heard rapid footsteps behind her.

“Allura!”

She whirled around. “Lance?”

Lance skidded to a halt in front of her. He must have run a long way, for he was out of breath. Allura smiled, about to make a joke, then she saw his face. She had never seen her brother look so terrified. 

“He’s coming,” Lance gasped.

“What?” she asked sharply. “Who is coming?”

“Zarkon.”

Allura pulled back in shock. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “The black dragon has been sighted over Gamelon, and they’ve sent a message to the queen. He’s heading straight here.”

_ How could this happen? _Managing to compose herself, Allura squared her shoulders. “How long do we have?”

Lance tossed his hands. “An hour, less, I don’t know.”

“Then we had best use our time wisely.”

Less than half an hour later, Allura stood on the battlements looking out toward the horizon. The dark form of the black dragon was visible now, growing larger by the minute. Allura gripped her spear so tightly it trembled in her grip. She could not take her eyes from the shadowy form of the dragon, the memory of her nightmares fresh in her mind. _ Is this what I should have foreseen? _

Allura felt a hand on hers. She turned to see Lance beside her. His mouth was set in a grim line, but his eyes were soft. 

No words were needed between them. Allura relaxed her grip slightly, and Lance let her go. It seemed cruel that after so long apart, Allura had found her lost brother only to be torn away from him now, but she would not have traded these last few years together for anything. Lance and Coran were all that was left of her family. If they had to die, they would make their last stand together. With that thought in her mind, Allura turned to face her most trusted friend. Coran’s face was very pale as he watched the dragon approach. He had always been here to help her, protect her, lift her from her pain, and Allura knew he would not shrink away now. 

At the center of the battlements, Allura watched Queen Zelda step forward. The young queen had insisted on leading her army personally despite dissent from the Council. Clad in armor, with her long dark blonde hair held back from her face, she held a white bow at her side. That white bow was the reason she was here on the wall. The arrows fired from that bow contained a sacred light said to be powerful enough to vanquish dark creatures. No one knew whether it would work against a dragon, but Zelda would not be dissuaded from trying.

Zelda gazed out along the horizon, the hand that shaded her eyes held steady. “My scout approaches,” she said. “Now we shall see what we are up against.”

The scout was pushing his loftwing as hard as it could fly. Allura prepared herself for what he might say, knowing it would likely make little difference. The loftwing touched down heavily upon the battlements, wings drooping limply at his sides. His rider dismounted and knelt before Queen Zelda. 

“Your highness,” he said breathlessly, “It’s Captain Shirogane. Captain Shirogane is riding the black dragon.”

Shocked whispers rose from the contingent of soldiers, silencing at once as Zelda raised her hand. “Are you sure about this?” she asked the scout.

“Yes, your highness,” he assured. “And that’s not all. He has the red egg.”

This time the murmuring of the guards would not be stifled. Allura listened to the whispers, feeling a bit dazed by the shock of the news. _ Surely this is impossible, _ she thought. _ How could Captain Shirogane escape the Galra on Zarkon’s own dragon? _

While Zelda’s scout continued his report, Allura returned her eyes to the sky, her Altean sight able to see much further than any human. The black dragon had drawn startlingly close in the time it had taken the scout to land. From this distance, Allura could make out the details of her scales, the keen glint of her violet eyes. Allura felt a strange rush of emotion flow through her, rooting her to the spot.

“I see him!” Lance said beside her.

“It _ is _him! It’s Captain Shiro!” exclaimed Coran.

The atmosphere changed immediately. People cheered, some waving up at Shiro as the dragon drew ever closer. Others were laughing or crying, giddy with relief. The scout was right. The dragon was not here to bring death upon them all. She was here bringing them their greatest hope in two centuries.

The air was alive with excitement. Allura felt it as much as the rest of them, but she was not looking at Shiro. She had locked eyes with the black dragon. It was as if a current was eddying between them, a current of memory so strong neither could break away. All the fear in Allura’s heart vanished. She knew this dragon. Allura had known her since she was a child, before the world had been torn apart, before Zarkon had broken the Paladins and began his conquest of the free kingdoms. This was not the dragon that razed Allura’s homeland. This was not the dragon that tore through cities with an unshakeable wrath. This was the dragon of the life Allura had lost, bonded partner to her father’s old friend. 

_ Obscala. _

A small tremor shook the earth as the dragon landed on the gravel path outside the castle. Standing at her full height, the black dragon was nearly as tall as the outer wall. The wooden gates groaned open as several of Queen Zelda’s guard came out to meet them. At their approach, the dragon laid down upon the ground, slowly lowering her head onto the path, and closed her eyes for a moment. Released from her gaze, Allura staggered slightly. 

Lance put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Allura, putting her hand over his. She smiled. “It’s nothing.”

Several knights had edged forward to help Shiro dismount from the dragon, still eyeing her a bit nervously. For the first time, Allura looked at Shiro. He was in terrible shape. His face was pale and drawn, with dark shadows under his eyes. A large cut across the bridge of his nose stood out in sharp relief. His white hair, grey with dirt, hung long and disheveled. Worst of all, Allura saw the bandaged stump of his right arm. He had clearly suffered much. Yet all that suffering had not broken him. The fire in his eyes still burned strong.

Two knights came on either side of Shiro to help him walk. Allura followed Queen Zelda’s retinue from the wall to meet him in the courtyard. Shiro came to stand before his queen and bowed his head. “I have returned with the egg, your highness,” he said, his voice rough with disuse.

Queen Zelda smiled. “So you have.”

With the help of his fellow knights, Shiro removed the satchel tied to his chest and pulled the egg from its wrappings. Everyone held their breath as the red egg was lifted up. It shone like fire in the sunlight. Allura’s heart swelled at the sight. This egg represented the hope of all the free people of Avindron.

It was time for the Paladins to rise again. 


	2. Hatching

The morning was clear and cold, the sun doing little to warm the promise of winter’s chill on the wind. Normally no one would be out on the upper balcony of the castle this early in the morning, but today was no ordinary day. Today was the day the Coalition would present their candidates to the red egg for the first time.

Lance fought down the impulse to tug on the stiff collar of his formal jacket. The ceremony would be starting soon, and the crowd was feeling as restless as he was.

Two weeks had passed since Shiro’s return, and the Castle of Lions had been a whirlwind of activity. Messages were sent to each of the Coalition’s allies summoning any able-bodied candidate to present themselves before the eggs. The yearly ceremony had already passed by a season ago, but with the arrival of the red egg, Princess Allura felt sure the time was right for another gathering. Lance could not disagree. After the loss of Obscala and the red egg, Zarkon would be scouring the lands for any sign of the Coalition. The Mountains of Karis was all that stood between his army and the Castle of Lions, and the Galra had already begun raids on the southern Dwarven clans. 

Today Lance’s mind was far away from such dire thoughts. Since the summons, both Therin and the castle itself had received an influx of travelers of all kinds; Dwarves, people from Gamelon, Ordona, and the Great Bay, even a small group of Balmerans. Every day Lance met a mix of warriors, traders, and refugees. Some hoped to be chosen by the young dragons, or to see the black dragon for themselves. Others wanted only safety in numbers. 

Lance looked out over the sea of faces, smiling. He had a good feeling about today. Someone in the crowd was going to become a Paladin. 

The eggs lay several feet in front of him on a set of rough stone pedestals. Each rested on their own stand, cushioned on a thin blue pillow. First on Lance’s left was the green egg, shining like an emerald, the egg his sister had saved from the ruins of Altea. Next the blue egg, glistening in the sun. To the right, the red egg rested, bright as fire, and hard-won. Finally, the golden egg, largest of all, but more subdued and muted than the others. 

Lance’s eyes lingered upon each of them in turn, his imagination wild with thoughts of what the dragons would look like, what they would _ be _ like. He wanted more than anything to become a Paladin and have a dragon for his own, but he knew it was not up to him. He had to be chosen. 

Just thinking about it gave Lance a rush of nervous excitement. He had been with the Coalition for nearly two years, but this ceremony was going to be the first time he would be allowed to take part. Lance was not a warrior or a magician, and though he was technically royalty, being prince of a dead kingdom counted for very little. Allura had not gained her position as head of the Coalition simply by being a princess.

Beside him, Lance could hear Allura talking with Queen Zelda. He started to listen in, but quickly lost interest. They were only discussing the proceedings. Nothing exciting. 

Queen Zelda VI was young, too young, some would say, to be queen. Yet she was the rightful ruler of her people, and after the sudden death of her mother, Zelda rose to her new responsibilities with admirable strength and courage. She would be leading the ceremony today beside Allura. Zelda wore a blue and gold dress over a white underskirt, a ceremonial sword held at her side by a golden chain. The trailing sleeves of her gown nearly brushed the ground. Her hair was braided into an elaborate style beneath her golden crown. She made quite a regal figure despite her small stature. Beside her, Allura appeared tall. Allura’s dress was a paler shade of blue, which, combined with her silver hair, gave her an ethereal elegance. A portion of her hair was twisted back into a small bun to keep it out of her face, but the rest tumbled loosely down her back. She also wore a crown, but Allura’s was an understated circlet with a single pale jewel at the center. 

A little farther back, Lance caught sight of Princess Hilda in a dress of deep green. Zelda’s younger twin, Hilda was near identical to her sister but for her darker hair and eyes. Feeling his gaze, Hilda turned her grey eyes to fix him with a questioning look. Lance’s smile broadened and he gave her a surreptitious wink. She turned away in feigned annoyance, but smiled all the same. 

Behind the three women loomed the large horned head of Obscala. The black dragon had perched herself on the edge of the stone balcony, right behind where the members of the Council were sitting. Captain Shiro stood beside Obscala next to her foreleg, dressed in the formal gold-trimmed night blue uniform of a Hylian knight. Lance knew Shiro was not going to be taking part in the ceremony. He was only there because of his part in bringing the red egg to the Coalition. 

_ And it makes the Council feel better knowing he’s between them and Obscala, _Lance thought to himself. Obscala had done nothing threatening since her arrival, but that did not stop most people from jumping at every move she made. She was, after all, a large and very lethal dragon, one with a fearsome reputation. Despite this, Lance knew she only cared about one thing, and that was the safety of her egg. It was for this reason the ceremony would be taking place here, out in the chill mountain winds of the upper courtyard, rather than the castle’s great hall.

As he thought this, Obscala slowly lifted her head. A hush came over the crowd. Allura looked up at the dragon and nodded, then she shared a glance with Queen Zelda. Together the two of them strode forward until they were right in front of the eggs. 

“Today is a momentous day,” Zelda began. “Today, we celebrate the liberation of a new life. The red dragon egg joins its brothers and sisters, taken from the hands of emperor Zarkon himself, through the strength and courage of Captain Shirogane!”

Several loud cheers erupted from the crowd. Zelda smiled, waiting patiently for them to settle once more before continuing. “Today we come together once again, in peace and in friendship, to offer ourselves before these young dragons in the hope some of us will be deemed worthy. In the past, we have restricted this ceremony to only those of great power, might, and magic. Perhaps this stringency has been our undoing.” She paused, looking out over the sea of faces, before nodding to Allura. 

“The Paladins of old accepted members from all walks of life,” Allura began, spreading her hands. “Today, we welcome anyone able and willing to step forward.”

Lance shuffled his feet restlessly, hardly able to contain his excitement. He kept his hands clasped behind his back so he could fidget without the entirety of the Coalition watching. Allura continued on to explain the proceedings to the crowd. First the queen and her sister would present themselves before the red egg. Then it would be Allura and Lance’s turn to come forward. After that, each member of the Council would take their turn. Next the knights and trainees of the Hylian army, followed by the Dwarves, the magician’s guild, and then any ordinary citizens who wished to present themselves. The ceremony might last all day, maybe even longer. There would be breaks in the proceedings to allow the crowd to rest and eat, but the Coalition planned to continue until every candidate had a chance to come forth.

The crowd held its breath as Queen Zelda came forward to place her hand upon the red egg. No sound could be heard but the wind whispering through the mountain. When it became clear the egg was not going to hatch, Zelda bowed her head and stepped back. She placed her hand on Princess Hilda’s shoulder. Lance saw Hilda hesitate, but she too came forward and touched the egg. Hilda seemed relieved when the egg showed no reaction. She quickly returned to her place beside her sister.

Now came Allura’s turn. Lance watched her with increased anticipation. He knew how much Allura wanted one of the dragon eggs to hatch for her, how much she wished to follow in their father’s footsteps. Allura had already tried with the other three eggs. If the red egg did not accept her, that was her last chance gone.

As soon as Allura touched the egg, Lance saw her shoulders droop almost imperceptibly. His heart sank. Like many Alteans, Allura was finely attuned to the energies around her. She could feel this egg would not hatch for her. 

The crowd grew restless as Allura stepped back. Their disappointment was palpable. With her magical skills, everyone had expected one of the dragons to bond with her. It seemed an obvious choice. Lance watched his sister carefully. Whatever she was feeling, she hid it well. She turned to him and smiled, nodding toward the eggs. The smile did not quite reach her eyes.

Now that the moment had come, Lance felt suddenly overwhelmed by a mixture of fear, excitement, and guilt. His heart felt like it was beating somewhere in the region of his throat. He stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the eggs so he did not have to look at the crowd. They fell into a respectful silence, but somehow the quiet was even harder to bear than the whispers. Lance tried to blot out the nagging voice of doubt in the back of his head. _ If none of the dragons hatched for Allura, how could I be worthy? _

His eyes traveled from one egg to the next, wondering which he should try first. This close, he could feel the life force inside them, like the warm glow of the sun on a summer afternoon. The touch of that warmth eased some of the burdens of his heart. There was nothing to be afraid of. 

As he raised his hand, Lance felt himself drawn to the second egg, the blue. It was not perfectly smooth like the others, instead covered in tiny facets that caused light to dance across the surface. Lance reached out to touch it, lightly brushing the shell, feeling the tiny crystalline grooves beneath his fingers. His hand tingled where he had touched the egg, and even though he made contact for only a moment, Lance suddenly knew.

The egg was hatching.

What started out as little shudders quickly grew stronger, and soon the egg was rocking back and forth on its stand. Lance reached out his hands on either side of it, prepared to catch it if it fell. At that moment, the first piece of egg broke off. There was a collective gasp from the onlookers. Another piece was pushed away, then another, showering the stone of the courtyard with pieces of blue shell. Lance flinched as one of the fragments nearly hit him in the face. Then the remainder of the egg split in half, exposing a very wet and bedraggled baby dragon.

Lance’s heart gave a little flip at the sight of her pale blue eyes blinking up at him. Her scales were a beautiful cerulean blue. A long crest of webbed spikes ran the length of her spine, ending in a fin-like tail. Lance smiled as she shook herself, unfurling her crumpled wings and beating them vigorously. At this point, the crowd could no longer contain itself. The air was soon filled with noise as the Coalition celebrated the birth of the first dragon since the Fall. The hatchling seemed displeased by the commotion and snorted in a disgruntled sort of way. Unable to help himself, Lance reached out to her, and he felt another thrill as she pressed her head against his hand, rather like a cat would. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Allura standing there. She smiled at him, and this time the smile was genuine. Allura pulled her brother into a tight embrace in front of the entire Coalition. Lance blushed slightly as she let go. Allura turned to address the people, her hand still on his shoulder.

“The first egg has chosen her rider!” 

\- - - - -

The Choosing Ceremony seemed to stretch on for eternity. Keith tried to keep his shoulders squared and his eyes forward as each of his company took their turns to present themselves to the eggs. One by one they came away, their faces carrying many emotions; disappointment, frustration, relief. 

Keith dreaded having to take his turn before the eggs. He imagined everyone was nervous to come forward, but it did not make him feel any better. Of his fellow trainee knights, he felt like the last person anyone expected to become a rider. The knights knew him as a troublemaker, always getting into fights with the other trainees. This spring he had failed candidacy for the knight’s trials for the second year in a row. Yet…

Casting a furtive glance along the line of councilmembers at the edge of the balcony, Keith caught sight of Shiro. He stood beside the looming figure of Obscala, watching the ceremony with a calm expression that was hard to read. No one quite understood the bond that had been forged between Shiro and the black dragon. According to lore, dragons only bonded once at their hatching, and that bond lasted until death. Somehow Obscala was able to turn against Zarkon, choosing to aid Shiro instead. His rescue of the red egg with the help of Obscala had given Shiro legendary status among the Coalition. He was as good as a Paladin to them.

When the eggs had chosen their riders, Shiro would be charged with training this new order alongside Princess Allura. He would be the one to lead them into battle once they were ready. That thought in his mind, Keith glanced over to where Lance stood, holding the blue dragon hatchling. The dragon lay curled in Lance’s arms, her head resting against his chest, pale eyes closed. Lance was smiling, leaning down to talk to her as she rested there. A prince of Altea seemed a worthy choice. Keith knew little else about Lance. He had a different name the nobles used, but Keith could not remember what it was. Lance did not spend much time among the knights and they did not often mention him. _ Does he have any combat training? _ Keith wondered. _ Perhaps he has powers like Princess Allura’s. _

A hand nudged Keith from behind. He started, realizing there was no one else in front of him. It was now his turn to stand before the eggs. Deciding not to dwell on how long he might have been standing blankly in front of everyone, Keith strode forward with all the confidence he could muster. 

He reached the pedestals and paused, his hand poised above the red dragon egg. He wanted nothing more than to have the red dragon hatch for him, but was not sure if he could bear to fail here, in front of everyone. In front of Shiro. Instead, he moved his hand to the golden egg. It felt warm beneath his fingers, and undoubtedly alive, but there was no change at his touch.

It was the same with the green egg, leaving Keith once again to face the red. It seemed to pulse as he looked at it. _ A trick of the light, _Keith told himself. He held his breath as he tentatively lowered his hand to touch the surface of the egg. 

The shell buckled beneath his fingers. He gasped, flinching backward, watching as the egg cracked open, two wrinkled knobby wings bursting through the sides. The hatchling shrugged off the rest of the shell, raising her head inquisitively to survey the crowd before turning about to face Keith. She was a bright glistening red, the color of fresh blood. Tiny dark red spines ran along her back, and two small pale nubs stood on either side of her head, the beginnings of her horns. Her eyes were amber yellow. 

As he stood there before the hatchling, Keith was suddenly at a loss what to do next. This was what he wanted, but somehow he felt more nervous and unsure than ever.

The crowd was alive with excited whispers. Keith wondered whether he was expected to say something. Before he could decide what to do, he heard the scrape of claws on stone behind him. Keith turned, looking up to see Obscala step forward from where she had been perched at the edge of the balcony. The assembly fell dead silent. 

Obscala lowered her head to greet her hatchling. Keith stepped back as the tiny red dragon stretched upward, touching her head to the tip of Obscala’s snout. Poised like this, they looked remarkably alike. The hatchling appeared a ruby miniature of her mother, not yet worn and battered by the passage of time, endless battles won and lost. For a moment both dragons stood frozen in a wordless exchange. Then Obscala turned her head, and her pale gaze found Keith.

A shiver went through Keith as their eyes met. Slowly Obscala brought her head level with his and carefully, gently, touched her nose to his forehead. 

The touch lasted only an instant, but Keith felt himself flooded by sudden warmth. Obscala had already turned away, settling back into place behind the council, beside her rider. Keith’s eyes flicked to Shiro’s to find he was smiling. Shiro extended his hand and nodded. 

For the first time, Keith managed a smile. He came forward and extended his hand. The small dragon scrambled into his arms, and as she settled there, Keith looked up to face the crowd. He met a chorus of cheers. His fellow trainee knights were the loudest, shouting and punching their fists in the air. The red dragon did not seem to like the noise any more than the blue had. She shuffled irritably, and Keith felt her tiny claws prick into his skin. Keith reached up to give her a reassuring touch, and it seemed to settle her slightly. 

Princess Allura was standing beside him. In the noise of the crowd, Keith had not noticed her approach. “The second egg has chosen her rider,” Allura announced, her voice strong and triumphant. 

The crowd erupted into another round of shouting and cheering. This ceremony was already more than they could have ever hoped. Not one but two dragons had been born and the day was not half over. It seemed like fate was finally smiling on them. 

In the midst of the chaotic noise, Keith looked down wonderingly at the baby dragon in his arms. He had done it. He was a Paladin.

\- - - - -

Pidge slowly unfurled another scroll, laying it flat across the table in front of her. While the majority of her people were watching the Choosing, she had taken the opportunity to sneak away to the library. The Coalition had census records keeping track of everyone their forces had rescued or relocated during the war, at least in its later years, as well as the losses they had suffered. These records were written in Hylian, not the dwarvish runes Pidge was most familiar with, which slowed her pace to a crawl. Still Pidge went through scroll after scroll, searching each line for a familiar name. If she was going to find any trace of her missing family, it would be here.

“Holt!”

The loud voice startled Pidge, causing her to lose her place. The lines of the records were small and dense. She would have to start over at the top of the page. Pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, Pidge turned to see a blurred figure at the end of the row. She snatched her glasses from where they rested on top of her head and put them on so she could see clearly. It was Martlan, a wizened old Dwarf, waddling toward her between the shelves of books. He looked rather stern. 

“What?” Pidge snapped before he could say anything. “Is the ceremony over already?”

Martlan frowned, the lines of his face deepening to shadowy crags. Pidge readied herself for a lecture. As a guild elder, Martlan was accustomed to being addressed with a measure of respect, but Pidge was in no mood to apologize. 

The old Dwarf’s eyes flicked from her to the pile of scrolls lying on the table, and he seemed to reconsider. Releasing his frustration in an audible “hmph,” he folded his arms over his knotted grey beard. “No, youngling, the ceremony continues even now,” he said.

Pidge frowned incredulously. “Then why --?”

“It has been decided all members of our delegation will be presented before the eggs,” Martlan overrode her. “If they be of age.”

Catching on, Pidge backed up a step. “You’re joking,” she said flatly.

“No,” he shook his head. “I would not jest about this matter. Princess Allura thought it best to allow any able-bodied candidate to come forward. The clans have agreed. You are young yet, but as a member of my guild I expect you to join us as we present ourselves before the Coalition.”

“This is crazy,” Pidge protested. “I’m not going to waste my time with some ceremony, not when I could be _ this _ close to finding out what happened to my family!” 

Martlan’s eyes softened, but his expression remained set. He placed his hands upon her shoulders so she could not turn away. “I understand your frustrations, but this is a time when we must put our personal needs aside. These old scrolls,” he nodded toward the records, “will be here tomorrow. Today we are needed.”

Pidge cast one last long glance at the scroll, then bowed her head. There was no excuse she could think of to argue with him. He was right; she could continue her search tomorrow. All she had to do was be patient for one more day. “You know this is pointless,” she said mulishly. “A dragon would never choose a Dwarf to be its rider.”

“The enmity between our races is deep,” Martlan agreed, “however this endeavor is far from pointless. Each of us must do our part in the war against the Galra. That includes doing everything we can to provide each egg with a rider. No dragon is a friend of mine, but I may change my mind when I see their fire rain down upon the Galra.”

A dark gleam had entered his eyes at that last. Here was something Pidge could agree with. The sooner the dragons hatched the sooner they would be able to drive back the Galra that threatened their home. 

“Come now,” Martlan patted her shoulder. “Let us get this ceremony over and done with, eh?”

Pidge nodded with a sigh. She rolled up the scroll and set it beside the others. The record keepers would likely put them back into their proper place while she was gone, but Pidge would remember where she had left off. She followed Martlan out of the library and along a long hallway, down a flight of stone stairs and into the foyer, making a sharp turn through the vast double doors into the great hall. Past the columns that lined the center of the room, Pidge saw a small group of five Dwarves were gathered along the far wall. They spoke together in hushed tones that echoed strangely in the large space. As Martlan and Pidge drew closer, they all turned to look over. Two were visibly relieved to see them arrive. The other three scowled at Pidge, nudging each other and bending to whisper among themselves, rolling their eyes in annoyance. They had obviously been kept waiting for some time. _ They could have gone in without me and left me alone, _Pidge grumped to herself. She glared right back, refusing to look ashamed.

“I’m surprised you found that daydreamer,” one commented to Martlan. “Where was she?”

“It matters not,” Martlan replied. “We are all accounted for. It is time we present ourselves.” He clasped arms with Morgin, his eldest son, a stocky dwarf with a plaited black beard. “The others have gone up, I take it,” he said.

“Yes,” said Morgin. “We waited as long as we could, but could tarry no longer.”

“Then let us join them.”

Without any further discussion, the group entered into the stairway recessed at the back of the hall and ascended the steps of the high tower that would take them to the upper courtyard and the Choosing Ceremony. Pidge kept to the back of the group to avoid being questioned by the others. The landing that led to the courtyard was still packed full of humans, hence why the Dwarves of lower rank had chosen to wait below. Morgin led the way through this sea of people, arriving outside to where the rest of their guild were still standing at the front. Beside them, several lines of Dwarven warriors stood, solemn and stone-faced. It was hard to say whether the warriors were upset at not being chosen.

Martlan gave a sigh of relief and patted Pidge on the shoulder. It seems they had not caused any delays in the ceremony. Pidge sighed too, but hers was the sound of frustrated resignation. She was here now. There was no getting out of this until it was over.

It did not take long for the seven or eight Dwarves ahead of her to take their turns before the eggs. Soon enough it was her turn. Pidge shuffled forward reluctantly, feeling no less foolish than she had before. If the egg hadn’t hatched for any of the warriors, why would it hatch for her? Yet Princess Allura insisted everyone from each delegation had to present themselves before the remaining eggs. Perhaps she was just desperate. Pidge shot the princess a swift mutinous glare as she came to a stop before the platform. 

_ Dwarves have never ridden dragons in the history of our people _ , she thought. _ Everyone knows that. I don’t see what’s so special about now. _

Despite her misgivings, Pidge was not about to make a scene in front of the entire Coalition. She would do her part, touch the eggs, and when nothing happened, walk silently back down the steps to rejoin the rest of the Dwarven delegation. _ It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t the last, _Pidge fumed silently. With a small huff no one else could hear, she squared her shoulders and looked down at the eggs.

They were beautiful to look at up close. Smooth as polished stone, the shells shone like jewels in the light. Suddenly all resistance vanished, replaced by wonder and curiosity. Pidge wanted to touch them, wanted to know what they felt like. What happened afterward did not matter so much anymore.

Slowly Pidge reached out her hand, letting it hover just above the surface of the leftmost egg. It was small, small enough for her to cup in both hands, and a brilliant shade of emerald green. She did not know why she reached for this egg first. Perhaps because she herself was small. As soon as she touched it, Pidge felt a strange pulsing from the egg. _ A heartbeat, _she realized with awe. It made her reluctant to let go.

As she stood there, Pidge suddenly realized the pulsing sensation was growing stronger, faster. Her own heartbeat quickened with anxiety as the pulsing became so strong the entire egg shuddered beneath her fingers, impossibly fast and sharp.

Suddenly she felt a stabbing pain in the palm of her hand. 

“Ouch!” Pidge staggered back, clutching her hand. She glared at the egg, and in an instant her anger dissolved into shock. 

Staring up at her, peering out of the hole it had just made, was the tiny green head of a baby dragon.

\- - - - -

The sun had begun to dip toward the horizon as the Choosing Ceremony continued on. After the last break in proceedings, many people took the opportunity to return to their lodgings or begin the long journey home. The hatching of three eggs was exhilarating, but after long hours on their feet in the chill winds, most spectators had seen enough. Those who remained in the courtyard were a dwindling crowd of hopefuls intent to try their luck with the last remaining egg, and those who were bound by the ceremony; Queen Zelda, Princess Hilda, Princess Allura, and the Council. The new Paladins also remained. Lance sat cross-legged on the stone, his dragon still resting in his lap. Pidge had also chosen to sit, but her dragon seemed disinclined to rest. Despite the young Dwarf’s protests, the lithe green dragon was intent on crawling up onto her shoulders and head. Between the other two Paladins, only Keith remained standing.

Hunk was grateful the crowd had thinned. He was not used to being around this many people. It was all so loud and chaotic. Even when the crowd settled and there was silence, Hunk was keenly aware of eyes shifting toward him. He and the rest of the Balmeran delegation, if it could be called that, tended to attract a lot of attention. These last few days had been overwhelming. Many times Hunk almost lost his nerve, questioning why he even left the safety of his home to come here.

_ Because home isn’t safe anymore, _ he reminded himself once again. _ This could be our only chance before it’s too late. _

Balmerans rarely left their family groups, and even then almost never ventured out of their homeland. When a drifter had stumbled into Hunk’s village with dire warnings of the approaching Galra threat, the people could not decide what to do. It had taken the elders many long meetings before they decided someone must be sent to find help. Elder Reyla, one of the youngest of the elders, and the most vocal advocate for seeking help from the Coalition, was set on making the journey, but the others refused to let her travel alone. To this day Hunk could not quite describe what caused him to volunteer. When no one else came forward, he looked at Reyla, resolute and alone, then made his choice. Despite his fears, and his family’s protests, he did not take it back.

The group had arrived at the Coalition amid the tumult of preparations for the Choosing Ceremony and almost immediately became enfolded into it. Princess Allura herself had taken the time to meet with them, asking if they would be willing to take part in the ceremony. Reyla had declined at first, but Allura seemed to think it was important for representatives from all the Coalition’s allies to come forward. “We are far stronger together than we ever could be apart,” she had said. “You are just as worthy as any of us.”

It had sounded so inspiring when she said it. Here in front of the crowd, Hunk no longer felt so brave. It would be so much easier to hang back and remain where he was, leaning against the stone wall of the tower behind the crowd of humans and Dwarves. There were so many people here eager and willing to come forward. Surely one among them was destined for the final egg.

“D-do you think we should go?” asked a gravelly voice.

Hunk turned to his right to look at his fellow. Enz was tall, even for a Balmeran, with two sets of curved horns on the hard bony helmet that encased his head. His eyes flicked uncertainly to the front of the procession. Hunk had trouble acclimating to the crowds of people, but Enz found them nearly unbearable. 

“You do not have to come forward,” Reyla replied gently before Hunk could answer. “The village has already asked much of you.”

Enz nodded, his broad rocky shoulders relaxing slightly. He had only come with them, after the village’s relentless insistence, to give his firsthand account of the Galra to the Coalition. Reyla and the rest of the elders felt this would encourage the Coalition to aid their village. Hunk knew Enz would most likely return to the Plains once his part was over. Reyla, on the other hand, would stay as long as she needed to in order to convince the Coalition to send help.

“Will you go, Elder Reyla?” Hunk asked.

The lines around Reyla’s eyes deepened. “Yes,” she said after a moment. “It seems like fate we should arrive here when these eggs are hatching after so long asleep.” She smiled and patted Hunk’s arm. “I hope you will join me as well.” 

Hunk picked at his chin self-consciously. “If you think I should…”

“I do,” Reyla said more firmly. “Come now, my bones ache from standing about all day.”

“Yes, Elder.” Hunk felt much more comfortable coming forward with Reyla by his side. As they walked, people scrambled out of their way, giving them a wide berth. Hunk and Reyla came to a stop beside a small group of traders waiting to try their luck. The young man closest to them was doing his best to look casual, but he was clearly intimidated by their size. Even Balmeran women towered over most humans. Reyla, slightly bent with age, was still taller than quite a few knights of the Hylian army.

“You should go before me,” Reyla said suddenly.

“What?” Hunk sputtered. “No, I couldn’t possibly--”

Reyla fixed him with a stern look. “I am here because I believe in Princess Allura. We _ must _stand together if we are to survive. But look at me, Hunk. I am not as young as I once was. No dragon would choose me to ride out into battle.”

Hunk could not argue. He knew she was right, but a surge of fear nearly rooted him to the spot. He gazed up past the egg and his eyes found Princess Allura. She was doubtless exhausted from the long day, but she still held herself tall and straight. The princess glanced up and saw him looking at her. She must have seen the hesitation in his eyes, for she gave him an encouraging smile.

“Go forward, Hunk,” Reyla said softly. “If not for me, for our people. For your family.”

Mustering up his courage, Hunk nodded. He felt too nauseous to speak.

Three long strides brought Hunk before the remaining egg. Up close, he immediately recognized the kind of egg this was. Desert dragons were native to the Balmeran plains. They were not a common sight anymore, but Hunk had seen one in his lifetime. Their eggs, a mottled dusky gold, blended well with the yellow soil of the plains. Suddenly Hunk was reminded of Reyla’s talk of fate. How strange that this should be the last egg, the only egg to be presented to the Balmerans. 

Yet still Hunk had doubts. Balmerans had long considered dragons sacred, but they had never entered into the pact to become Paladins. They were too tied to the land they called home to become embroiled in the politics of other lands. Would any dragon consider bonding with a Balmeran? _ The green dragon found a Dwarf worthy, _ Hunk reminded himself, glancing briefly to Pidge. _ Dwarves were not Paladins either. Maybe… maybe it truly is fate. But me? No, I couldn’t possibly... _

With reverence, Hunk cupped the egg in his hands and raised it up until it was level with his chest. Though he had seen eggs like this before, they were only the discarded remnants of shell from old nests, nothing like this vibrant egg so full of life and energy. Hunk felt suddenly very protective of the egg, reluctant to let it go from his sight.

After several still moments, Hunk decided he had been right; this egg was not for him. Not knowing quite why, he raised the egg once again and touched it to his forehead, closing his eyes and reaching out to the infant dragon within.

_ I want you to know, you’re in a safe place, _ he said to it. _ There are so many people here that love you and want to know you. Come out whenever you’re ready. _

Overcome with emotion, Hunk pulled away, lowering the egg back onto its resting place. His eyes met Reyla’s and she smiled, though her eyes were sad. Then her eyes suddenly widened. A wave rippled through the crowd as a multitude of heads turned in unison. 

“Hunk!” Enz cried from the back of the crowd, pointing excitedly. 

Hunk glanced back to the egg and his mouth opened in surprise. The egg was cracking. Spider-like fissures spread out across the surface as the shell heaved once, twice, three times. Then the pieces crumbled apart to reveal a golden dragon. His body was covered in small dark knobs that made him look more like a rock lizard than a dragon, but his eyes shone with unmistakable intelligence.

As the crowd murmured in shock, Reyla came to kneel before the baby dragon, offering her hand to him in greeting. The dragon seemed to take this in stride, dipping his knobby head to smell her, before turning his eyes back to Hunk. When Allura stepped forward to address the Coalition, Reyla bowed her head and moved back a respectful distance.

Hunk could still not believe what he was seeing. _ Me, a dragon rider? I can’t believe this is happening! This is --! _

Amazing? Terrifying? He could not think of the right word. Hunk thought his journey to the Coalition was the biggest challenge he would ever have to face. But here, standing next to a baby dragon, _ his _dragon, Hunk realized he had been wrong. He was now the last in a new order of Paladins. The fate of the free kingdoms rested in their hands, and there would be many battles ahead.

Hunk hoped he would be brave enough to face them.


	3. Day One

“First day, huh?”

The words brought Shiro back to the present. He had been dwelling in the past again, on the spaces of lost time that still haunted him. At the sound of Adam’s voice, his eyes came back into focus, taking in the fixtures of their small house. The remains of the fire in the hearth across the room, the dusty desk below the eastern window, the worn blue rug in the middle of the floor, the wooden stairs that led to the loft where they slept, the table where he sat, the cup of tea in front of him that must have long grown cold. Adam was across the table from him, his smile not quite able to mask the worry in his hazel eyes.

“Yeah,” Shiro replied with an answering smile, forcing himself to drink his cold tea. “Today’s going to be a big one.”

Shiro had never been able to convincingly hide his feelings from his husband. Adam could tell Shiro was worried. Reaching across the table, he put his hand over Shiro’s. “You want to talk about it?”

Shiro sighed softly. “There’s not much to say at this point. All the dragons have hatched now. It’s my job to make sure the Paladins are ready for battle when the time comes. Keith’s had some training as part of the knights, but I don’t know if anyone else has any combat experience. Even if they have, fighting with a dragon is something completely new to us. I’m not sure where to start.”

“Takashi, it’s only the first day,” Adam pointed out. “You can’t expect to be an expert right away.”

“I know, but… ever since I’ve come home, people look at me as if…” Shiro shook his head. “I don’t know. Everyone seems to think I know what I’m doing.”

Adam nodded in understanding. He knew Shiro’s relationship with Obscala was still as new and unfamiliar as the dragon hatchlings. The Coalition might believe otherwise, but they both knew the truth. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

The words were gentle, but still Shiro felt a small sting. It was true he could have refused the position given his injuries. Obscala seemed to like Allura, and would doubtless have allowed the princess to be her rider if asked, but Allura was the leader of the Coalition. Her duties pulled her in a thousand directions. Shiro knew Allura would not be able to dedicate all her time to the new Paladins even if she wanted to, but that was not the only reason he accepted. If he was being honest, he wanted to remain in the thick of things. He wanted to be useful, to be needed. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said, more to himself than Adam, as he stared down into his cup. “After today, we’ll know how to move forward.”

Shiro half expected Adam to argue, but Adam merely sighed. “Alright,” he conceded. 

Knowing how much it cost him, Shiro met Adam’s eyes with a grateful smile. In the days before he left on his quest Adam might have tried harder to make him reconsider. They had many heated arguments before the day came for Shiro’s company to leave. Shiro was more used to this stubborn protective side of Adam, but he was grateful for the change while it lasted. Though Shiro remembered mercifully little of his imprisonment, the months had been long and painful for Adam, and both of them were unwilling to disturb the peace.

Another silence stretched between them before Adam spoke again. “You’ve got quite a diverse group,” he said. “I hope they can all get along.”

Shiro nodded, envisioning each of the new Paladins standing together in his mind’s eye. “The idea is to build the team while the dragons are young. They won’t be battle ready for at least a year, or so Coran says.” 

“A year is a long time.”

“Yes,” Shiro sighed. “But we don’t have a choice. The Coalition will have to hold position without the dragons for now.”

“Recruitment numbers are up at least,” Adam said brightly. “News of Obscala has spread quickly. As long as we can hold the lower Peaks --”

A sudden rush of air rattled the windows. Both men stopped to peer outside. They watched a shadow fall over the front window beside the door. Shiro gave a low chuckle. “She’s here.”

Shiro led the way outside into the still morning to find Obscala standing in the road beside the front path, a tall shadow in the pale dawn. She dipped her head to acknowledge the couple before settling her eyes on Shiro. As soon as Obscala looked at him, Shiro felt an urgency and eagerness from her and knew she was more than ready to be off. 

“Well,” said Shiro. “Here we go.”

He and Adam shared a kiss goodbye, then Shiro approached the black dragon. Obscala had already been fitted with a saddle. It was large enough to accommodate several people due to her considerable size, and had been designed accordingly. Shiro took hold of the strap, using it to help him climb up into the frontmost seat.

“Today’s going to go well,” Adam said after him. “I have a good feeling.” 

“We’ll do our best,” Shiro replied. 

Obscala did not take off right away, allowing him time to get his bearings. The sun had just begun to rise over the far horizon, staining the sky a beautiful pink. There was a gentle wind in the air, warmer than typical for the season. The short flight to the castle was going to be beautiful. 

Seized by a sudden impulse, Shiro gave Adam a mischievous grin. “If you’re ready to go, we can drop you off at the barracks. It’s a lot faster than walking.”

Obscala caught on immediately. She lowered her wings, tilting her head to regard Adam with a single violet eye.

Adam paled slightly. “Oh no, I’d much rather walk.”

“Don’t be silly,” Shiro scoffed, leaning down to offer his hand. “It’s the perfect morning for flying. She’s not going to eat you, I promise.”

Adam did not look so sure of that. He had met Obscala before, but was never quite relaxed around the large dragon. Shiro gave him a pleading look followed by his sweetest smile. Finally Adam sighed and gave Shiro a long-suffering look, before stepping forward and taking his hand.

Shiro waited until Adam had climbed up into the seat behind him. “I don’t know why you’re so worried,” he teased. “She likes you.”

“You don’t know what she likes,” Adam accused. “You’re just making assumptions.”

Shiro laughed, neither confirming or denying it. “Thank you,” he said, “for coming with me.”

Adam wrapped his arms around Shiro’s waist. “I could still change my mind,” he mumbled.

At this, Obscala raised her wings and leapt forward with a suddenness that left both men breathless. “Too late!” Shiro exclaimed, laughing as Adam clung to him more tightly. 

“You told her to do that!” he cried.

“No,” Shiro tried to reply. “That was all her!” 

His words were lost to the wind. Obscala rose into the sky with steady wingbeats, angling herself to head toward the castle nestled within the mountains. Shiro watched the village of Therin grow smaller beneath them, exhilarated. The vast expanse of the sky opened up around them in delicate shades of pink, blue, and gold. This high in the air the wind blew much colder, but between his excitement and the feeling of Adam’s arms around him, Shiro hardly felt the chill. 

It did not take them long to reach the Castle of Lions. The vine-choked turrets rapidly came into view, and before they knew it they were landing at the base of the outer wall. Shiro hailed the tower guard, and a loud groan split the morning air as the front gates were opened for them. 

Obscala made her landing, and Shiro felt Adam’s arms loosen around him. He could not stop himself from grinning. “Well, what did you think?” he asked.

“It was beautiful,” Adam admitted reluctantly. “But you scared me half to death!”

“That wasn’t me!”

“Maybe… but this was still your idea.”

“Fair enough,” Shiro conceded. “We’ll both try to warn you next time.” 

“You had better,” Adam said in a mock stern voice before climbing past Shiro and sliding carefully to the ground. 

Shiro chuckled to himself. Obscala shifted beneath him, moving back so as to give herself more room to take off. He waved a quick farewell to Adam before gripping the saddle tight. “Remember what I said about today,” Adam called up to him as Obscala raised her wings. 

“I will!” Shiro promised. 

Then Obscala was in the air once again. Shiro kept Adam in his sight as they rose upward. Only when the ramparts of the wall blocked him from view did Shiro turn his eyes to their destination, the base of the Spire, the courtyard where the Choosing had taken place. 

Shiro easily spotted Allura standing near the edge of the stone platform, her silver hair tossed high by the wind. There were three others with her, one standing very near Allura, and the other two a small distance away. Shiro guessed Coran was beside Allura, and recognized the tallest figure as Hunk, the Balmeran Paladin. The final figure was, by his size, either Keith or Lance.

As he drew closer, Shiro quickly realized the figure standing beside Allura was not Coran. It was Commander Hira. 

Hira the Rose-thorn was clad in full armor, a typical habit of hers when outside the forge, holding her helmet in the crook of her arm. She was seldom seen walking about the castle. Hira worked tirelessly for the Coalition, crafting and repairing weapons, armor, and other equipment for the soldiers. Free of coal dust and smoke, her skin was near as pale as Coran’s. She kept her rose-red hair cropped short, and the Altean marks below her deep blue eyes were a pallid green. Rose-thorn was her name among the troops, both for the swiftness of her spear and the sharpness of her tongue.

Obscala slowed herself with two powerful strokes of her wings, landing gracefully on the flat stone. Shiro patted her neck in thanks before dismounting. He glanced over to Hunk and saw it was indeed Keith standing beside the Balmeran. The red dragon had already left Keith’s side, a crimson blur bounding over to greet her mother. 

Keith followed his dragon over to where Obscala and Shiro were standing. Shiro smiled as Obscala bent her head to her hatchling. “How is little Red doing?” Shiro asked Keith.

“Good, I think,” Keith replied. “She hasn’t really complained.”

The hatchling let out a happy whistle, and Obscalla hummed in response. Her red scales glittered in the morning light, not quite a match for the fiery brilliance of her amber eyes. Shiro found himself catching his breath. This tiny dragon had been only an egg a scant day ago. She was what Shiro had been fighting for, and to see her here, so vibrant and full of life, filled his heart with joy.

“Has she accepted a name yet?” he asked.

Keith nodded. “Yes. Her name is Ignia.”

“Ignia,” Shiro repeated slowly, pondering the name. In the tradition of the old order, Coran had provided an extensive list of names for the young Paladins to try with their dragons. These names were a mixture of historic names from notable riders, the names of wild dragons, and figures of myth. Once the dragons settled on a name they liked, Coran would record it alongside the name of their rider. It seemed a bit strange for a hatchling to be able to choose its own name so young, but then again dragons were not human. They learned to fly and breathe fire in their first year of life. There was much Shiro had yet to discover about them.

Shiro glanced over to where Allura and Hira were deep in discussion. Above them the sky was now a hazy blue, the last filaments of pink fading away as the sun rose further from the horizon. Shiro wondered whether they were impatient to begin. If the Rose-thorn was here, the Paladins might be in for a tough first day. 

“Is Commander Hira going to test us?” Keith asked, voicing Shiro’s thoughts.

“It seems so,” Shiro answered. “Let’s go see what they have in mind.”

As Shiro strode toward the pair of Alteans, Keith followed him like a silent shadow. Allura and Hira grew silent as they approached. Shiro sensed from the tense line of Allura’s shoulders they may have been arguing, about what he could not guess. He was not about to pry.

In the next instant, the tension was gone. Allura smiled at the pair in greeting. Hira merely nodded. “Captain Shirogane.” 

“Princess Allura, Commander Hira.” Shiro bent in a slight bow, touching his left hand to his chest. This was a reverse of the typical greeting, but under the circumstances it was all he could do.

Hira’s stern demeanor softened a bit, and she smiled. “It is good to see you up and about. How is your arm coming?”

Shiro put a hand to his right shoulder, feeling the unfamiliar coolness of metal beneath his shirt. Since he had agreed to take on the Paladin’s training, Queen Zelda commissioned her engineers to make him a prosthetic arm. It would take them some time to complete it, but while the wound was still fresh, they worked with a healer to fashion a socket that would eventually hold the arm in place. The arm could be attached as soon as it was ready, allowing Shiro to begin training with his new limb. “I haven’t heard anything new,” he said, “but the joint isn’t giving me any trouble.”

“Good to hear. Sheikah prosthetics are quite impressive, but I don’t think I’ve seen an entire arm done before. We’ll see if it allows you to keep your sword skills.”

Shiro spread his arm in a lopsided shrug. “I’ll find a way to make due,” he said brightly.

“No doubt.” With another nod, Hira turned to Keith. “And you are…?”

“His name is Keith,” Allura supplied just as Shiro opened his mouth to do the same, taking both Shiro and Keith by surprise. “He is a trainee knight of the Coalition, bonded to the red dragon.”

“Ah.” Hira peered more closely at Keith with a pensive frown. “You’re the boy the captain sponsored, are you not?”

“Yes, sir,” Keith responded.

“Captain Shiro speaks well of you,” she said. “It will please me to see your progress with my own eyes.”

On the edge of his vision, Shiro saw Keith stand up a little straighter. He put his hand on Keith’s shoulder briefly in a gesture of confidence and support. “Are you going to be responsible for the Paladins’ combat training?” he asked Hira directly.

Her reply was quick and blunt. “No, but I shall spare every moment I can. I daresay it will be necessary.”

The door leading out to the courtyard from the Spire creaked open slowly. Shiro and the others turned to see Pidge slowly emerge from the shadows. Her honey-brown hair was tied back in a braid to keep it out of her face, and she carried a well-worn pack on her back. Riding atop the pack was the green dragon hatchling.

As soon as she caught sight of Obscala and Ignia, the green dragon launched herself clumsily from Pidge’s pack, managing to land on her feet with enough control to scurry forward toward the large black dragon. Pidge took this with a simple shrug, and swung her pack off one shoulder to check the fabric for tears from the small dragon’s claws.

Beside him, Shiro heard Allura’s contented sigh. “When I first held her egg, I feared the hatchling would not survive,” she said. “Look at her now!”

Shiro nodded in agreement, feeling again that same rush of warmth and joy he felt upon seeing Ignia. “Do you know her name?” he asked.

“Viridia.” The name seemed to whisper through the air. After a pause, Allura gave a quiet laugh. “I pestered Coran many times before he was able to tell me. ‘There’s no rushing a Naming,’ he said. ‘She’ll tell us when she’s ready.’” 

Shiro laughed with her, before glancing back to the now closed door. “Speaking of Coran, where is he?”

“Probably dragging Lance out of bed,” Allura replied with a deflated sigh. “You don’t know how hard it is to wake him this early.”

“He’ll have to get used to it,” Shiro pointed out.

“Goddess willing.”

They did not have to wait long. Soon enough Coran and a visibly tired Lance emerged out into the courtyard. Lance was carrying his dragon in his arms. Shiro watched her notice the other dragons and begin wiggling restlessly. “Alright, alright!” Lance exclaimed, bending to let her down. 

As the blue hatchling made her way to the others, Lance rubbed his eyes and tried to stifle a yawn. Beside him, Hunk was speaking to his dragon, his voice too quiet to hear from this distance. The hatchling sat cradled in Hunk’s arms, so still he might have been asleep but for his open brown eye, wide and unblinking. _ Looks like we have a shy one, _Shiro thought to himself.

Hunk knelt and very slowly set his dragon down upon the flagstones. The golden dragon crouched there, visibly unhappy, while Hunk tried to coax him to join the others. Eventually Hunk gathered him back up with a sigh. Before the dragon could get too comfortable however, Hunk carried the hatchling over to Obscala. He kept the little dragon close to him while Obscala bent toward him, and the other young dragons gathered around. Viridia clambered up onto Hunk’s head, the blue dragon on his right shoulder. Slowly but surely the little gold dragon began to relax, extending his knobby head to greet the others. 

This time when Hunk set him down, the hatchling readily joined the others scurrying about around Obscala. The great black dragon had since laid down, looking very much like a cat keeping a watchful eye over a litter of kittens.

Shiro watched the scene with a soft smile. Though Ignia was her only offspring, the other baby dragons seemed to take to her as a mother figure, and so she was. The Coalition could not teach the hatchlings what they needed to learn growing up as dragons. Only Obscala could provide that. When she was with the hatchlings, there was such a clear softness in her eyes, in her movements, Shiro knew she would protect each of them with her life.

Coran clapped Shiro’s good shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts. “Morning, Captain Shiro!” he said, boisterous as ever. “Good to see you!”

“Good to see you too,” Shiro replied genially.

“Seems we’re the last ones, are we?” Coran scanned the courtyard. “Well, now that we’re all here, I expect you’re eager to begin.”

Allura began to nod, but Hira cut in. “Did you bring what I asked?”

Coran turned slightly pink. “I er, well,” he stammered. “We were in such a hurry, I must have forgotten. I’ll just go get them now...” 

With that, Coran spun around and whizzed through the courtyard door, shutting it behind him with a squeal and a loud thump. Allura sighed and turned to Hira. “You should not have sent him away,” she chastised just loud enough for Shiro to overhear. “Coran knows the history of the Paladins better than anyone.” 

“History can wait,” Hira replied matter-of-factly, “What we need are skills they can use now. We can begin faster without him.”

Allura gazed at the spot where Coran disappeared, a pensive frown on her face. Then, squaring her shoulders, she turned to Shiro. “It’s time we begin,” she said. “Can you please gather everyone together?”

Shiro bowed his head, giving no indication he heard their exchange. “Of course, Princess.” 

Normally he would be more inclined to side with Hira, but this was different. The small spark of a bond Shiro shared with Obscala showed him there was so much more to being a Paladin than fire and battle. He made a mental note to discuss it with Coran as soon as there was time.

“Welcome, everyone,” Allura said once they were all together in a group. “No doubt these last few days have been overwhelming for you all. I’m sure your minds are brimming with questions, but I must ask you to be patient. We are here to introduce you to your new responsibilities as Paladins in training. Before we begin, please sit down and call your young dragons to you.”

The four did as she asked, seating themselves in a semicircle before turning to beckon their respective dragon. Shiro sat too, watching each of them carefully, ready to learn what he could about their fledgeling bonds. The golden dragon was the first to come. Hunk had called his name too quietly for Shiro to catch it, but the dragonling came scuttling over to settle into Hunk’s lap, visibly relaxed. 

Lance, in contrast, called loudly to his dragon. “Hey, Cirulea!”

The blue dragon perked her head and came bounding over, followed closely by Ignia. Cirulea climbed up onto Lance’s knee with a soft chirp, while Ignia curled up beside Keith, wings folded neatly. Only Viridia remained at a distance, absorbed in examining the cracks between the courtyard stones. 

“Viridia,” Pidge called again, annoyed.

Viridia cocked her head slightly, before turning away with a dismissive flick of her tail. 

Pidge sighed, slowly taking a small paper packet out of her vest pouch and opening it, revealing a piece of what looked to be dried fruit. The sound of the paper caught Viridia’s attention. She scurried over with a speed that told Shiro this was not the first time Pidge had bribed the hatchling like this. Viridia grabbed hold of the proffered fruit and gave a small tug with her head as if to take it, but Pidge held on firmly, forcing her to stay where she was if she wanted to eat it.

Allura smiled, laughter in her eyes. She knelt down gracefully, bringing herself at level with the Paladins. “One day it will be much easier to call them to you,” she said. “When you are fully bonded to your dragons, you will be able to reach out to them without speaking a word. Your souls are connected, and with training, your minds will be as well.”

Shiro felt a gust of warmth brush his shoulder and looked up to see Obscala’s snout beside him. She too had turned to watch Allura. From what little he knew about the Paladins, Shiro doubted his soul was connected to the black dragon, but perhaps with training he could communicate more easily with her. As it was, he could only get small impressions of what she was feeling, and this was much harder to do when she was not looking directly at him.

It was strange to think Shiro would want to become close to the dragon that nearly killed him, the dragon that once belonged to Zarkon himself. _ But without her, I wouldn’t be here today, _ he thought. _ We wouldn’t have been able to save her egg. _

“Paladins not only shared a bond with their dragons,” Allura continued, “but with others of their order as well. When you have become fully realized Paladins, you will be able to communicate with one another without needing to speak.”

“Are you saying we’ll be able to use magic?” Pidge asked skeptically.

“Yes.” Allura’s smile broadened. “Dragons are naturally connected to the energies that flow within the earth and sky. Your bond with your dragon will allow you to access this energy and harness it. Don’t expect to master it right away,” she added, eyeing Lance’s eager expression. “It takes many years of study. In any case, this training cannot begin in earnest until your bond with your dragon is complete. To attempt it before you are ready would be dangerous for you both.”

Allura stopped at the sound of the door creaking open. Coran peered out, saw everyone’s eyes on him, and pushed the door open enough to drag the large pack he carried through the entryway. He padded over to the group, huffing slightly. “Thank you, Coran,” Allura said, patting his shoulder as he released his burden and sat down beside her.

She turned back to the young Paladins. “One day you will form a strong team, but today some of you may be strangers to one another. I would like to take the opportunity now to ask each of you to introduce yourselves and your dragons. Tell us something about yourself so we can get to know you better.” 

“A wonderful idea,” Coran agreed enthusiastically. “Where are you from? What are you good at? What do you like, and what gets under your skin? Who’d like to be first?” 

The Paladins glanced among each other dubiously. After a moment of awkward silence, Lance straightened up with a confident smile. “I’m Lance,” he said brightly. “I’m Allura’s brother. I grew up by Spearpoint at the tip of the Great Bay. I’m a good shot with a bow, and I bet I’m the fastest swimmer here.” 

“Any dislikes?” Coran prompted.

“Getting up early,” Lance answered immediately. “If the sun isn’t up yet, why should I be?”

Allura laughed. “I don’t think it has anything to do with the sun,” she teased.

Lance briefly made a face at her, but otherwise ignored the comment. “This is Cirulea,” he said, indicating his dragon. “She likes people a lot, and seems to want me to carry her everywhere. She gets upset if I don’t.”

Cirulea snorted and settled herself more comfortably on his knee.

“Thank you, Lance, Cirulea,” Coran bowed his head to each of them. Then he turned to Hunk, who was sitting to Lance’s right. “And how about you?”

“Oh!” Hunk was caught by surprise, but he smiled and continued all the same. “I’m Hunk of the Balmera. I’ve lived at the base of the Sacred Mountain since I can remember. I like growing and cooking my own food, and I don’t like…” His face fell. “...Fighting.” 

The last word was barely audible. Shiro sympathized with Hunk. The Balmerans were a peaceful people unaccustomed to war, but as a Paladin Hunk would be part of the fighting. It was inescapable.

Hunk looked down at the dragon in his lap and seemed to recover some of his earlier cheer. “This is Aurem,” he said, lifting the golden dragon out of his lap for everyone to see. Aurem gave a little huff at being moved, but otherwise didn’t protest. “He likes to burrow under things, which is natural, since he’s a desert dragon. His hearing is really good too!”

Next in the semicircle was Keith. “My name is Keith, and I grew up in Ikana valley.” His voice was flat and he did not look up as he spoke. “I like flying, except when it’s raining.” After a brief pause, he indicated his dragon lying curled up beside him. “This is Ignia. She likes to sleep on my clothes, and she doesn’t like being told what to do.” 

Ignia gave an answering flick of her tail.

It was now Pidge’s turn. “I’m Pidge,” she began. “I was born in Hsokall, a village in the southern peaks of Karis. I like building things, and I hate crowds. My dragon is Viridia.” She turned her head to the side, where the small green dragon was perched on her shoulder. “She’s really curious and gets into _ everything.” _Pidge rolled her eyes. In response, Viridia poked her nose into Pidge’s ear.

“Hey!” she cried, almost jumping to her feet. “Stop that!”

Viridia cocked her head insolently. Pidge frowned at her. “See what I mean?”

“She looks like trouble,” Lance agreed, laughing.

“You feel like swapping?” Pidge grumbled. Viridia gave an angry snort, nipping her arm. “Ow!”

“Now you asked for that, young Paladin,” Coran pointed out. “Once your dragon chooses you, there is no ‘swapping.’”

“What about Shiro, then?”

Pidge looked at Shiro expectantly, the other Paladins following her gaze. Their burning curiosity was palpable. Shiro felt he owed them an explanation, even though he still did not fully understand. “Obscala acted to protect her hatchling,” he said. “I suppose she only brought me along to lend a hand.”

“But if she’s connected to Zarkon, couldn’t he just force her not to?” Pidge asked, frowning.

“No,” Allura answered. “The bond between dragon and rider is not about control. Your dragons may share your thoughts, but that does not mean you will always agree. They have their own thoughts and desires independent of yours. You must learn to work together.” 

She paused to let her words sink in. In the silence, Hira’s armor creaked as she shifted her feet. Allura took this as a cue to move on. She drew herself to her feet before continuing.

“As your bonds grow, you will also begin training in traditional combat. Swordsmanship, spear combat, and archery. You will need to be fit enough to fight alongside your dragons when they are large and strong.” She bowed to Hira. “Commander Hira will take things from here.”

Hira nodded and stepped forward. “I am Commander Hira, weaponsmaster of the Coalition. I, alongside Captain Shirogane, will be charged with assessing your physical training. Some of you may not have even grasped a sword before, and for those who have… we shall see just how much you know.” 

Bending down, Hira unrolled a bundle of cloth beside her pack, revealing a pile of wooden practice swords. “Today I intend to see for myself what each of you is made of. I have always believed you can learn much of someone’s true character by facing them in battle.” Hira placed her helmet on her head before selecting one of the staves. “Coran has brought with him pieces of padded armor for you to wear. These you will take with you when we are finished today. Take a set and follow me.”

As the four rose to do as she asked, Hira approached Hunk. Shiro watched the two closely, wondering what she was about to do.

“I don’t suppose we have any padding to fit you,” Hira mused aloud. “Will this be enough protection?” Hira pointed at the hard shell that encased the top of his head.

“Uh, I think so…” Hunk replied.

“Let’s see.” Swiftly Hira reached up and knocked him two solid thumps right between his horns with the end of her wooden sword. Hunk flinched back in surprise, but Hira was unmoved. “Did that hurt?”

Hunk shook his head, still visibly shocked by the sudden blow. “N-not really.”

“Good. Then we can start.”

Hira nodded to Coran, who opened the oversized pack he had brought and began distributing the contents. Shiro instantly recognized the padded jacket, arm and leg guards, and helmets trainees wore in full contact spar practice. 

Keith’s uniform was protection enough for his torso, arms, and legs, but he took a padded leather helmet and fastened it snugly on his head. Lance seemed to have some practice with the padded armor, which surprised Shiro. He had never seen Lance spar with any of the trainees. Lance got himself into the full set without any trouble. Pidge on the other hand struggled with a jacket that was obviously much too large for her. Coran offered to help, which she accepted a bit grudgingly, using an extra belt to gather the excess material snugly around her. Hunk simply stood and watched them, fidgeting nervously.

“Now then,” Hira called their attention. “Who will face me first?”

Keith immediately stepped forward. “I will.”

Hira smiled. “Good. At the ready, then.”

As Keith came forward, Shiro fell back beside Allura to watch. “Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to be testing them like this?” he asked her quietly.

“Yes, but what choice do we have.” Allura responded without looking at him. She was watching Keith take a ready stance, a pensive frown on her face. “We can’t afford to wait. If it helps, I tried to tell Hira to go easy on them.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You think she’ll listen?” 

“Well, she won’t kill them,” Coran said brightly, emerging on Shiro’s left. “And you know what they say, what doesn’t kill you --”

The rest of his words were drowned out by the loud crack of Keith’s sword against Hira’s. Their battle had begun. 

Rather than wait for Hira to make the first move, Keith took initiative and pressed onto the attack. Hira blocked each blow deftly, maneuvering around him with practiced ease. She allowed him to attack her unchallenged several more times before spinning her weapon around in a counterattack. Keith was ready for her, deflecting as he stepped to the side. He fought in a one-handed style, his left arm which normally would have held a shield kept behind him and out of the way. Hira adopted the same style so as to better test his skillset.

Keith fought with tireless tenacity, determined to land at least one hit on the Rose-thorn. It was a commendable effort, but Shiro doubted Hira would let him slip through her defences. Altean strength and hundreds of years training elevated her to a level above human knights.

Even though Keith was clearly outmatched, Shiro could see his vast improvement. His footwork was solid, his strikes faster than they had ever been, displaying a level of swordsmanship worthy of the Knights Trials. Shiro suspected if Keith got along better with Commander Iverson, he would have been knighted by now. 

As the fight wore on, Keith’s stance began to deteriorate. His strikes became increacingly reckless and he left more and more openings for Hira to exploit. Finally she landed a solid blow across his chest that knocked the wind out of him. He drew back, gasping for breath, and she let him retreat, standing straight and tall with her weapon at the ready.

Shiro half expected Hira to continue the fight, but after Keith recovered and moved into a ready position, she relaxed her guard. “Commendable,” she said. “Stand down, Keith.”

Keith bowed his head, straightened and stepped back, his steady movements belying the severity of the blow Hira dealt him. Shiro knew from personal experience how hard Hira could strike. Keith would be feeling it tomorrow morning. 

Lance stepped forward next, twirling the sword in a small flourish before he faced Hira. Shiro was keen to see what the young Altean prince was capable of. Lance held his weapon much in the same way Keith had, but his stance was nowhere near as solid. Shiro wasn’t sure he would be able to block a solid blow without staggering, but Lance proved him wrong when Hira moved onto the offensive. _ He’s stronger than he looks. _

Shiro spared a quick glance at Allura. She appeared calm for the most part, but the way she was clasping her hands betrayed her nervousness. 

“Has Lance had any formal training,” Shiro asked, returning his eyes to the fight.

“No,” she admitted. 

At that moment, Hira struck the stave out of Lance’s hand, sending it clattering across the courtyard. “Pick it up,” Hira instructed. “Try again.”

“He seems to have some experience,” Shiro continued as Lance grasped his weapon, slightly red-faced. “Has he practiced with the knights?”

“Not consistently,” Allura replied. “He has taken more to archery than close combat.”

Shiro nodded, watching Lance engage Hira for a second time. Lance’s edge alignment was poor and he had a tendency to overcommit to his strikes, but he certainly showed potential. “I look forward to seeing it.”

Eventually Hira called an end to the fight and beckoned to Pidge. The small Paladin wore a scowl of concentration as she stepped forward, looking like a child beside Hira’s height.

Beneath her helmet Pidge had replaced her glasses with a pair of heavy goggles, giving her an owlish look. Adam used something very similar, but unlike his, the ones Pidge was wearing looked like they were more for use in a Dwarven mining operation than for combat. They looked sturdy enough that Shiro made no objections, but privately he planned to have her fitted for something more practical in the future. The rims of these goggles looked much too thick.

Pidge held her sword very much like a large club. When the fight began, that was exactly how she used it, striking with pure force and no elegance. Hira quickly turned that force against her, deflecting her strikes and sending her staggering every which way. To her credit, Pidge kept her temper in check. Realizing there was no chance she would get anywhere swinging wildly, she moved onto the defensive, focusing more on watching Hira’s movements than trying to strike.

It was not long into the battle Shiro saw he’d been right. Pidge’s goggles blocked her peripheral vision, forcing her to turn her head constantly to keep Hira in sight. She did her best to adjust for this, trying to use her small stature to get under Hira’s guard and move in close enough that Hira could not attack as effectively. For a moment it seemed this ploy would work, but Hira was too swift. She spun to the side, using Pidge’s momentum to knock her off her feet. 

The practice sword shot out of Pidge’s hands when she hit the ground. Rather than try to recover it, she rolled to her feet and held up her arms, hands balled into fists, ready to block. 

“Good thinking to get up close,” Hira commented. “With proper armor and a swift hand, you could make that tactic deadly.”

Pidge seemed to accept the complement silently. She retrieved her weapon and returned to the others, where she plopped herself down to watch the final trial. “Your turn,” she said to Hunk. 

Hunk gave her a pained look that made Shiro wonder if there was any real benefit to forcing Hunk into this so quickly. The wooden sword looked like a toy in his big hand, but he held it as if it could bite him. 

Lance came up on Hunk’s other side. “Go on, big guy!” he encouraged, nudging the Balmeran in the arm. “You can do it!”

With a faint groan, Hunk reluctantly stepped forward. 

Hira sighed, almost at the edge of her patience. “I know you’ve never raised a weapon, boy, but do your best to strike me.”

With one last deep breath, Hunk launched himself forward. He flinched as he swung, missing wildly. Hira took the opportunity to strike him solidly upside the head before placing the tip of her sword against his chest.

“_Never _ close your eyes when you strike,” she said sharply, eyes severe.

“Yes ma'am,” Hunk’s voice was small.

“Flinching is a quick way to get killed,” Hira continued. “At best, it’s a recipe for accidents. Stay focused, and keep your eyes on your opponent. Try again.”

As Shiro watched Hunk take his first faltering swings against Hira, he went over what he had learned of each Paladin so far, formulating the kind of training they would need in order to balance out each other's strengths. Sword training was only the beginning. There was so much left to test. Archery, battle tactics, stealth, survival skills, history, all this without factoring the dragons. The hatchlings sat watching the trials with rapt attention, safe within Obscala’s watchful shadow. Shiro wondered how they would respond to all this as their bonds with their Paladins grew.

It was going to be a very interesting week.


	4. Bonding

Lance awoke to a rough thump against his chest. Groaning, he opened sleepy eyes to find a scaly blue face inches from his own. 

“Whoa!” he cried in shock, sitting up so suddenly he nearly sent Cirulea tumbling off the bed. Her tiny claws pricked him as she clung to his nightshirt, disgruntled. His heart pounding, Lance carefully gathered her up. The hatchling let go of his shirt, allowing him to set her down on the blanket. 

Lance gave her a mock glare and sighed dramatically. “Don’t scare me like that,” he said severely. “My heart can’t take it.”

Cirulea looked up at him with wide unblinking eyes. Lance wondered whether she understood any of what he said. She was only a few days old, after all. 

Now that the shock had worn off, Lance was growing cold outside the warmth of the blankets. He shivered and hugged his arms to his chest, wincing as the movement aggravated the bruises he earned the previous day. This was his first morning in the Dragon’s Eyrie, the network of tunnels and caves dug into the side of the mountain beside the Castle of Lions that would serve as their home for as long as he was a Paladin. The caves led out into the open air to allow the dragons flight access, and although these paths were currently blocked with as much insulation as possible, the late autumn wind still found a way through. 

“How is it you’re not cold?” he asked Cirulea.

The tiny blue dragon merely chirruped and hopped down onto the floor. Her leap sent several pebbles skittering left and right, and Cirulea immediately began chasing one across the floor.

“Okay,” Lance murmured, “Maybe dragons don’t get cold.” He forced his feet out of bed and onto the mercilessly cold floor, gathering his blankets around him like a thick robe.  _ I should have worn socks,  _ he thought to himself. Winter had almost arrived, and it would only get colder. The luminescent crystals that hung about the space provided a soft light, but no warmth.

Lance’s clothes were draped over a chest at the edge of his bed. He managed to get dressed with minimal grumbling as Cirulea kept herself entertained. Her joy was infectious, and Lance found himself grinning despite the temperature and the early hour.  _ Look at that!  _ He marveled.  _ We’re bonding already. _

Lance replaced his blankets back onto the bed and sat down to watch her for a moment. As if sensing this, Cirulea stopped what she was doing and trotted over to him, climbing back up into his lap. Lance patted her tiny head before looking out across the room, imagining a grown Cirulea curled up against the opposite wall, her massive head resting beside his bed. It may be an empty room now, but depending how quickly Cirulea grew, the two of them might soon outgrow it. 

“Should we get going, you think?” he asked.

Cirulea did not show much reaction to this until Lance started to pick her up. With a tiny squeak, she scrambled up onto his shoulder, her tail draping gently around his neck. Lance stood up, laughing. “That’s my girl.”

Together the two of them made their way into the brighter space of the common room outside to find Keith and Ignia already there. Keith was seated on one of the stone benches sharpening his sword with a whetstone. Ignia lay curled nearby. When Lance and Cirulea entered, she turned her head to look at them, first Lance, then Cirulea. Keith did not look up from what he was doing.

Lance paused at the entryway, appraising Keith from afar. At Coran’s suggestion, Shiro split the group of four into two pairs, placing Lance with Keith.  _ Part of some Paladin tradition, or whatever _ . They had only had one real day of training and Lance knew very little about his new partner. Keith was good with a sword, that was obvious, good enough for Shiro to use him as an example when teaching them sword forms to practice.  _ Not that he could show us himself with his arm missing,  _ Lance amended to himself. Other than that, Keith didn’t seem to do much. He was very quiet at dinner and went off by himself afterward. By the time Lance came to the Eyrie, Keith and Ignia were already in their room, presumably asleep.

Feeling a bit self-conscious just standing there, Lance squared his shoulders and marched smartly to the bench opposite Keith, barely managing not to wince as he sat down. “Hey there,” he greeted brightly.

“Hi,” Keith answered without looking up. 

“Ready for the tests today?”

Keith shrugged noncommittally.

Lance frowned, a bit put off. On his shoulder, Cirulea shuffled from foot to foot, uttering a low whistle. “Well, we’re ready,” Lance asserted, sitting a bit taller. “Cirulea and I can handle anything they throw at us.”

“Good.”

At this point, Lance decided Keith was either too dull to make good conversation or so focused he didn’t want to talk, though what was so fascinating about sharpening a sword Lance could not fathom.  _ Maybe swordfighting is his only obsession _ . 

By the light of the crystal lanterns, Lance saw Keith was wearing his usual scowl as he worked. Then he saw something else, something he had never looked close enough to notice before. Keith’s face bore two faint scars, slightly darker than his skin, each running down the side of his cheek and continuing in an arc across his neck below the ear before disappearing into his hairline. They were chillingly symmetrical, as if purposefully cut. The thought made Lance uneasy.

Cirulea had grown bored of her perch and leapt down onto the bench, startling Lance from his thoughts. Across from them, Ignia got to her feet, wings partly raised. Cirulea eyed the other dragon and crouched low, neck outstretched, tail lashing playfully. Before Ignia could make a move, Cirulea launched herself between the benches, landing right beside the red dragon. Ignia flapped her wings in surprise, buffeting Keith in the shoulder. “Careful,” he said sternly, holding his sword away from the two dragons.

Whether or not they took notice was unclear. Cirulea turned to leap over the edge of the bench, wings flapping madly, and Ignia followed. Their wings were not large or strong enough to carry them yet, but they could both jump quite far for their size. Both dragonlings reared up, pushing and snapping at each other like a pair of puppies, before one would run away and the chase would begin.

Looking away from the playing dragons, Lance once again tried to start a conversation with Keith. “So… how old are you, anyway?”

“Nineteen,” Keith answered.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a bit young to be a knight?”

Keith paused for the first time. Frowning, he set aside the whetstone and slowly returned the sword to its scabbard before facing Lance directly. “Captain Shiro was seventeen when he became a knight.”

“Oh, right,” Lance said casually. “I forgot how fast humans age.” 

Keith was still frowning at him. “How old are you? Two hundred?”

Lance laughed, surprised Keith had gotten so close. “Yes, actually.”

Keith snorted in disbelief. With a single shake of his head, he stood up to buckle the sword to his belt. 

“You think I’m lying?” Lance accused before Keith could turn away. “Well I’m not! Alteans live for hundreds of years.”

“I didn’t say you were lying,” Keith replied, matching Lance’s irritation. “It’s just… weird to think about.”

“It’s not weird, it’s perfectly normal.” 

“Well I’m not used to it, ok?”

Lance gave an indignant huff. “Whatever,” he mumbled. It was then he caught sight of Cirulea looking at him. In the exchange, he hadn’t noticed the dragons had stopped playing. They were both still, staring at Keith and Lance with their wide gem-like eyes.

“Come on, Ignia,” Keith called.

The red dragon recovered quickly. Bounding after her rider, she left the room with Keith. Lance waited several stubborn moments before following. He and Cirulea slowly made their way through a long curving tunnel segmented halfway through with a wooden doorway. The tunnel was noticeably colder on the other side of the door, and as they rounded the final corner, the morning breeze caught Lance in the face and he shivered, grateful for his thick doublet. 

They were now in the wide cave that would serve as the main landing area for the dragons. Hunk and Pidge had not yet arrived, but Obscala crouched at the mouth of the cave. At her feet was the carcass of a dead deer. The two hatchlings set upon this immediately, an activity Lance decided to ignore. As he looked away, he noticed the sky behind Obscala was a light shade of violet, not even dawn. He groaned in annoyance and sank down onto one of the benches lining the walls. 

“You couldn’t have eaten without me and let me sleep?” he grumbled to himself, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall. He heard several sharp clicks as Keith lit a fire nearby with some flint. The air gradually grew warmer, which only increased Lance’s desire for sleep. He shifted to a more comfortable position and sighed. Surely they would not be expected to be up like this every morning.

Footsteps approaching along one of the tunnels caught his attention, and Lance cracked an eye open to see Pidge and Hunk walk in with their dragons. 

“Morning, everyone,” said Hunk. “Has anybody eaten yet?” 

Lance shook his head, watching the others do the same.

“I’ll make something,” Hunk offered, kneeling down beside the fire and opening the satchel he carried over his shoulder. Before he could take anything out of it, Obscala stretched out her long neck and deposited a large chunk of deer beside the fire, startling everyone. 

“Th-thank you,” Hunk stammered. 

Obscala had already returned her attention to the hatchlings. They had made short work of their own portion and were now gleefully gnawing the bones.

“Well, I guess we have breakfast,” Hunk said brightly, though he still looked a bit shaken up. He had already set about preparing the deer, something that surprised Lance. For someone so unused to violence, Hunk seemed to know about hunting.

“Is she going to do that every morning?” asked Pidge.

Lance turned to Pidge and saw her frowning incredulously in Obscala’s direction. “Maybe not every morning,” he said. “Unless she thinks we’re her kids too!”

The comment got a chuckle out of Hunk.

“Why would she think that?” Pidge asked blankly. “We look nothing like dragons.”

“It was just a joke,” Lance said with a careless wave, feeling deflated at the thought Pidge might be just as humorless as Keith.  _ Maybe she’s not a morning person. _

Before they finished eating breakfast, the hatchlings came over to investigate what they were doing around the fire. Cirulea sat in Lance’s lap, fascinated by the cooked meat, but when Lance offered her some, she was too full to take more than a small taste of it. Apparently she was also too full to want to walk the distance between the Eyrie and the courtyard. While the other dragons seemed fine with walking, Cirulea fussed and pushed at Lance’s ankles until he gave in.

“You’re going to spoil her,” Pidge remarked.

Lance smiled as Cirulea pressed her head against his ear. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I think it’s cute,” said Hunk.

“Maybe now, but she’s going to get bigger. What will you do when she’s twice that size?”

“Are you calling my dragon fat?” Lance demanded in a tone of mock hurt. “It’s ok, Blue,” he soothed. “Don’t listen to her.”

Pidge simply rolled her eyes and kept walking.

Obscala had left them at the tunnel entrance. The cavernous pathways of the Eyrie were not made for a dragon of her size. Instead, she would be flying. With how long it took the Paladins to walk, Lance figured Obscala had enough time to fly to Therin in back several times over. Sure enough, by the time they arrived at the courtyard, Obscala was already there, along with Shiro and Coran.

This time Allura was not with them. Lance knew she wouldn’t be, but he could not help but feel disappointed. His sister was always busy. Sometimes a week would go by with barely a glance of her. He supposed he should be used to it by now, but he wasn’t.

“Morning everyone,” Coran called, waving to them. “Good to see you bright, early, and ready to go!”

Lance smiled back, though he was sure it was more of a grimace. After that walk, he was even more tired than before. If it was possible to sleep on his feet, he would have tried it. 

“We’re going to start the day with a short meditation exercise,” Shiro began. “This will help focus your minds and ready you for training. First, find a spot to sit down.”

Lance and the others followed Shiro’s direction. As Lance sat cross-legged on the stones, Cirulea climbed down to rest by his feet. Having just ate, the other dragons were just as lethargic as she was. Even Viridia sat calmly beside Pidge. 

“Keep your back straight and relax your shoulders,” Shiro instructed. “Close your eyes and focus on taking slow even breaths. Let go of any thoughts and distractions and focus only on your breathing. In… and out…” He demonstrated once before continuing. “Once you have centered your mind, I want you to reach out for that part of you that is connected to your dragon. Feel the presence of their mind and let their thoughts flow into yours.”

He paused to let his words sink in. “Any questions before we begin?”

“How will we know what the bond feels like?” asked Keith.

“I can’t answer that,” Shiro replied honestly. “I’ve been told each person’s mental presence is unique, and I’m sure it’s the same with dragons.”

“You’ll know it when you feel it,” Coran assured them. “It’s like the feeling you get when you remember something you forgot. A sudden flash,” he snapped his fingers. “Aha! There it is!”

Lance watched Coran dubiously. He wasn’t sure about this meditation stuff, but closing his eyes sure sounded nice. 

“We’re not expecting you to get it on the first try,” said Shiro. “For now, let’s just try to relax and focus our minds. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and give it a try.”

Lance closed his eyes gratefully. The light of the rising sun was a blazing orange against his eyelids. He took another deep breath, feeling Cirulea shift against his leg. Despite how sore he was, sitting here was quite comfortable. Too comfortable. Before he finished his third breath, he found himself drifting off.

A sharp poke startled him awake. “No sleeping, Lance,” Coran chided. “Back straight. Focus.”

Lance groaned and closed his eyes again. He really did try to focus, but it was no use. Every time he closed his eyes and started to relax, sleep beckoned, earning him a rude awakening from Coran. 

“You can’t work on your bond if you’re asleep,” he pointed out.

“I can’t help it, I’m tired!” Lance complained.

“Sometimes you’re going to have to focus when you’re tired. Give it another go!”

With a sigh, Lance did as he was told. This time instead of closing his eyes all the way, he peered through his eyelashes at the other Paladins. Pidge was to his right, sitting rigid with Viridia in her lap. Hunk was further forward. All Lance could see was his broad back. He could not see Keith, which meant the red Paladin was somewhere behind him.

Feeling sleepy again, Lance dug his nails into his palms to keep himself awake. Nobody else was falling asleep and getting poked. He probably looked ridiculous.

“Alright,” came Shiro’s calm voice. “It’s time to open your eyes.”

Lance spread his arms over his head in a wide stretch. Below him, Cirulea mimicked the movement with her tiny wings. He reached down and gave her a small scritch under the chin, and she tilted her head appreciatively.

“Well, how’d you do?” asked Coran. “Did anybody feel anything?”

“I felt something,” Hunk said excitedly.

“That’s great, Hunk,” said Shiro. “What did you feel?”

“It was like a… a pressure, somewhere here,” Hunk touched the back of his skull. “When I focused on that, I suddenly felt so happy and full!” Hunk looked down, and Lance imagined he was looking at Aurem. “He ate more than he should have this morning, but I don’t think he could be happier!”

“Couldn’t you tell that just by looking at him?” Pidge asked matter-of-factly.

“It wasn’t a look, it was a  _ feeling _ ,” Hunk replied. “I felt like  _ I  _ had eaten too much, and I wanted to lay down in the sun.”

“Hmm.” Pidge seemed to accept his explanation for now.

Lance was fascinated. “Did you see anything?” he asked, burning to know what a dragon’s vision was like.

Hunk turned to him with a worried frown. “No, I didn’t. Should I have?”

“It’s a bit early for that,” said Coran. “One day you’ll be able to see through your dragon’s eyes, but you can’t push too hard.” He looked around at each Paladin. “Did anyone else feel something?”

Lance shook his head. Beside him, Pidge also shook her head, and there was no response from Keith. Lance sighed in silent relief. It made him feel better to not be the only one.

“Now that we’re all focused, it’s time to warm up.” Shiro said. Coran passed practice weapons and shields to each Paladin as Shiro explained what they would be doing. “We’ll start each day with some basic drills. It might seem repetitive and boring, but over time these forms will become automatic. This can save your life in battle.”

Taking a ready position, Lance nodded. Cirulea scuttled away to give him space to move. As she left, she tackled Viridia, and the two dragons streaked off in a playful dance. 

Shiro was now back at the front, holding his own weapon in his left hand. “Once we’ve gone through each drill, you should be warmed up enough for some archery training.”

Lance grinned at the mention of archery. Here was something he knew he was good at. The morning may have had some rough patches so far, but if he could get through his sword drills, the rest of the day should be smooth sailing.

He went through the motions of the drills without any major mistakes, though Shiro was constantly making small corrections to his stance and form. Lance didn’t even protest when Shiro told him to follow Keith’s example. Of course Keith had “perfect” form. He’d been practicing these same drills for years. 

_ I’ll show ponytail what I’m made of in the archery range,  _ Lance assured himself, putting a bit more force than necessary into his strikes. 

The hatchlings stayed behind with Obscala when the Paladins made their way to the range. Young as they were, Shiro did not trust the hatchlings wandering about in a space where they could be struck with a stray arrow. 

Cirulea gave a low unhappy whistle as she watched Lance go. He waved cheerily to her. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart.”

There were a few trainees lingering at the practice range. Lance was happy to see Adam was with them. Adam was not an archery trainer, but he was a good shot, and it made sense Shiro would ask his help. At the sight of Lance and the other Paladins, the trainees drew back closer to the far wall to watch. “Be on your best behavior,” Lance heard Adam tell them. “Get too rowdy and you’re out.”

Several of the boys laughed and nudged each other. A girl beside them rolled her eyes. Lance’s smile widened into a grin. Eager to show off, he did not mind having an audience, especially one of attractive young knights. 

Ahead of him, Shiro was helping Hunk select a bow from the weapon stand. Pidge was holding a small recurve bow of Dwarven make, no doubt brought specifically for her. Not wanting to have the last pick, Lance selected one of the longbows. The weight felt decent in his hand, but not perfect. He set it aside and took another. This one was much better. He strung it easily, pulling the bow to full draw in a practiced motion. 

“Be careful, Lance,” Shiro warned. “We're not starting yet.”

Slowly Lance released the tension on the string. “I know. Just getting a feel for it.”

There were lines on the ground at various distances from the targets. Shiro guided them to the first mark, each with their own straw target. Only then did Coran come forward and provide them with arrows. 

“I’m starting you all on the closest mark to get an idea of what each of you can do, then we’ll move further back from there,” Shiro said as he walked along the line. “Don’t shoot until you get the signal, and don’t go to retrieve your arrows while anyone else is shooting. Is that clear?” 

“Yes,” they chorused.

“Good.” 

With Adam to demonstrate, Shiro began explaining bow safety and basic archery form. Lance found his attention drifting. All this beginner stuff was things he already knew. He shuffled his feet, itching to start. Idly Lance began to wonder what Cirulea was doing. It had to be more interesting than this.  _ What would happen if I reached out to her from here?  _

Lance imagined shouting her name in his head.  _ Cirulea!  _

No response. Lance sighed.  _ Well, she’s probably too far off anyway... _

Before he could try again, Lance noticed Shiro and Adam were coming to stand with them behind the line. It was finally time to start. “Hunk, Lance, I’ll be watching you,” Shiro said. “Adam will keep an eye on Keith and Pidge.”

“Right!” Lance gave a cheerful nod before taking his position. He had already readied his first arrow, but managed to curb his enthusiasm enough to keep his bow down until Shiro gave the signal. His eye was on the target.

“Remember, do not take your arrows from the target until everyone is finished. On my mark… fire!”

In one smooth motion, Lance lifted his bow, drew the string back to the corner of his mouth, and loosed his first arrow. It struck the target nearly dead center. One of the trainees whistled in amazement. Lance nocked his second arrow with a confident smirk. They hadn’t seen anything yet.

Lance let loose three more arrows in quick succession, burying them in a tight cluster beside the first. His earlier soreness was forgotten. At this distance, it was not even a challenge for Lance to hit his mark. He glanced to the side to see if Shiro had seen him, but Shiro was busy helping Hunk. Hunk’s first shot had gone wildy astray, and he seemed to be afraid of holding the string near his face. Lance felt bad for him. Archery was such fun. Maybe when Hunk got used to the bow, he would think the same.

Turning his attention to the other side, Lance caught sight of Keith’s target and his mouth nearly fell open. Keith’s grouping of arrows was almost as good as his.  _ No way!  _

Fuming, Lance wrenched his eyes back to his own target.  _ Just relax,  _ he told himself,  _ Sooner or later, he’ll mess up. He’s just having a lucky run. _

That was what Lance would have liked to think. Yet Keith continued to hit his target with adept precision. Between taking his own shots, Lance could not stop himself from casting furtive glances at Keith, hoping to catch a mistake.  _ How is he so good at this?  _

Keith continued to pay him no mind. As their practice went on, Lance was becoming increasingly more tense. Finally his distraction caused him to misfire, his arrow hitting the left side of the target near the top. 

Lance jerked another arrow from his quiver with unnecessary force, turning again to watch Keith sink another arrow right into the center. It was the final straw. Under a wild impulse, Lance swiftly drew his bow, aimed, and shot directly at the cluster of arrows in the middle of Keith’s target. The arrow found its mark, striking one of Keith’s with such force it split the haft with a loud snap. 

Keith turned to glare at Lance, his bow half drawn. Lance merely folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something. Instead, Keith decided to return his attention to his target. Still glowering, he raised his bow and stared down the target for several long seconds, then smoothly released the arrow. His aim had been slightly high, landing above the cluster of arrows at the very tip of the second mark. 

“Ha!” Lance exclaimed.

Keith rounded on him immediately. “At least I still hit the center.”

Before Lance could offer an angry retort, Shiro was there between them. “Lance,” he said, gently but firmly. “Focus on your own target, please.”

Lance shot Keith another angry glance before relenting. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Shiro surveyed their targets and smiled. “It seems you two need a bit more of a challenge. Once we finish the run, I’ll have you move your targets back another twenty paces. Then we’ll see what you can do.”

Lance mustered the enthusiasm to smile, but inside his confidence was wilting. Normally he would be excited to show his skills with a further target. Now a part of him worried he was just going to make an idiot of himself. The last thing he wanted was for Keith to show him up at the one thing he was supposed to be good at.

_ Don’t think about Keith,  _ Lance told himself as he gauged his new target.  _ Don’t even look at him.  _

His first few shots were shaky, but this time Lance managed to keep his focus and get back into his own rhythm. This distance was no big deal. He could shoot twice as far and still hit.

Keith was not as consistent at this distance. He still hit the target with decent accuracy, but his shots tended to drift to the right. Lance stood up a little straighter, regaining some of his earlier bravado. Keith did not glance his way when they went to the targets to collect their arrows. Lance almost opened his mouth to say something when Shiro tapped him on the shoulder.

“You’re doing really well, Lance,” he said. “Would you like to come help Hunk?”

Lance leapt at the opportunity. “Sure!”

Hunk looked sheepish as Shiro and Lance approached him. Lance gave him a friendly smile, which seemed to put him at ease a bit. “Don’t worry, Hunk,” said Shiro. “Lance is going to help show you what I mean.”

“Ok, Lance, I want you to draw slowly, then hold position.”

Lance did as Shiro said, staying still with his eyes on the target as Shiro showed Hunk how Lance was aiming. “You need to aim lower than you think,” he said to Hunk. “There’s a gap between your eyes and the arrow. Lance, can you line the arrow tip with the target center?”

Again Lance followed Shiro’s instructions, tilting his bow upward. As he maintained the tension of the string, he began to feel his soreness and fatigue catching up to him, but he was not about to slip up now. 

“Go ahead and fire,” Shiro told him.

“Okay,” Lance replied dubiously, not really wanting to loose such a bad shot. As he knew it would, the arrow went high, just barely striking the top of the target. 

“Thank you, Lance. Now you can shoot as normal.”

“Oh! I see!” Hunk said as Lance took his second shot with precise accuracy. 

Shiro smiled. “Ready to give it another try?”

Lance paid close attention as Hunk drew his bow. His aim was still slightly high, but he amended it with a gentle reminder from Shiro. As far as Lance could see, Hunk’s form was not horrible for a beginner. He did not fidget or hold the string too tightly. His worst problems came when he released the string. He leaned his head back away from the drawn string and flinched as soon as he let go.

“Don’t be so worried about the string,” Lance said. “You can draw it back to your ear, and it won’t hurt you.” To demonstrate, Lance drew another arrow and pulled his string further back until it was resting below his earlobe, then released. “The string won’t snap back or anything.”

“Okay…” Hunk followed his advice, only flinching a bit.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Lance assured. “You’ve only just started.”

Hunk smiled. “Thanks Lance!”

Lance grinned back. “We can get in some extra practice anytime you want.”

As the lesson came to an end, Hunk was talking excitedly to a less-than-enthusiastic Pidge about his shooting, and Shiro was giving Keith some pointers on technique. Just the sight of Keith calmly walking beside Shiro was enough to get Lance irritated again.  _ Why am I stuck with him?  _ Lance sighed. It would be much more fun to be partnered with Hunk. 

_ Pidge and Keith are practically made for each other. Two sticks in the mud _ . That thought in his mind, Lance fell back until he was walking beside Coran. 

“Good shooting, Lance,” Coran commended. “If you keep it up, you might one day be as good as Strytha the Swift.”

Lance was blank. “So this Strytha… she’s pretty good?”

“Oh yes. She could toss a ring from her finger up in the air and shoot an arrow through it before it hit the ground!”

“Wow,” Lance’s eyes widened. “How long do you think it will take for me to get that good?”

“Such skill takes time and dedication,” said Coran. “I’d say you’re looking at a century, at least.”

Lance groaned, dejected. Then he remembered why he wanted to talk to Coran in the first place. “Anyway, how come we were split into pairs yesterday?” he asked.

Coran brightened, a gleam in his eye. Lance realized too late what he’d started. 

“In the golden age of the Paladins,” Coran began before Lance could interrupt, “every trainee was given a partner. They trained together, studied together, fought together, and often even lived together. The pair of them, and their dragons of course, were taught together under the eye of a single Paladin that served as their master. Of course, we don’t have any Paladin masters here, but the principle remains the same; Paladins are trained in pairs so they can learn to bond with each other as well as their dragons. You’re meant to help each other learn.”

“Do they ever… switch partners?” Lance queried.

“Hmm, I don’t recall so.”

Lance grimaced. “But what if we don’t get along?”

“Well, you’ll just have to work through your differences,” Coran said with a wide shrug. “You’re part of a team, after all. You’ve got to learn to work together. Don’t look so glum!” he patted Lance on the back. “It’s only been a day. Give it more time and I’m sure you’ll become great friends!”

Lance frowned at Keith’s back. “Yeah... right,” he murmured under his breath.

Lance’s mood improved as soon as he saw Cirulea. She bounded over to him, wings beating rapidly as if that could make her move any faster. He scooped her up into his arms and laughed at the chorus of chirps, growls, and whistles she made. It was hard to tell whether she was joyful or scolding. Perhaps a bit of both.

“Someday I’ll understand what you’re saying,” he said with a playful tap on her nose. She nipped him lightly, but he didn’t mind. She was still his little sweetheart.  _ Maybe I can teach her to bite Keith instead... _

The next week was a test of patience for Lance. Meditation was a hopeless exercise. When he managed not to doze off, his mind wandered to everything but what he was supposed to be concentrating on. He did not seem to be making any improvements in sword and spear training either, and archery, which would have been the activity to lift his spirits, had become a source of anxiety as Keith continually threatened to show him up. Lance was long past trying to be friendly with Keith. By unspoken agreement, neither of them interacted in the morning. Keith was always gone by the time Lance got up, and when he and Cirulea joined the others, the two would-be partners ignored each other.

By the end of the week Lance was exhausted, and he wasn’t the only one. Before he and the others could drag themselves off to sleep, Shiro stopped them. “All of you have been working hard this week,” he said. “I’ve seen a lot of solid efforts. Tomorrow, take some time to rest. Training will resume as normal at the start of next week.” 

This was the best news Lance could have hoped for. His body felt like one big bruise. A part of him fantasized about taking Shiro’s offer literally and sleeping through the day. Cirulea had other plans. She tried to wake him up early as always the next morning, but Lance was able to convince her to leave without him, snatching another hour before she returned to bully him awake.

Lance sighed, admitting defeat. “We have the day off,” he said as she hopped beside him on the bed. “What should we do, Blue?”

Cirulea whistled and pulled on his sleeve.

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up!”

No one was in the landing when Lance arrived. The day was bright and clear, perfect weather to be outside. Cirulea stood before the opening, wings outstretched to catch the breeze. Lance imagined she was dreaming of flying.

His smile faded as he looked past Cirulea at the facade of the Castle of Lions. Though he knew he should be glad of a free day, something about the morning felt dark and heavy. Lance found himself thinking longingly of the salt air of his home. He missed the sound of the sea, the feel of the water as he swam with his friends, the adventures they had in the rocky reefs of the Great Bay. His eyes wandered to the lake at the base of the castle.  _ Maybe I could go down to the water… _

The thought seemed a bit crazy. At this time of year, the water would be frigid, but with winter just around the corner this might be his last chance before it became too dangerous to risk.  _ Allura will kill me if I get myself frozen in the lake,  _ he thought, looking back up at the sky. Even still, the lake seemed to beckon him. In the end, Lance gave in.

He arrived at the lake with a bundle of extra warm clothes and a blanket only to find someone else was already there. Keith was out practicing sword drills at the edge of the lake, taking no notice of Lance. 

Lance fumed silently, determined to ignore Keith right back. He set down his bundle at the base of a bare tree and stripped off his outer layer of clothes. As he stood at the foot of the water, his toes sinking in the muddy pebbles, Lance realized he couldn’t hear Keith practicing anymore.  _ Maybe he left,  _ Lance mused.  _ Good riddance. _

“What are you doing?”

Lance startled, whirling around to see Keith standing right beside him. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” he asked defiantly.

Keith’s frown deepened. “You’ll freeze.” 

“No I won’t,” Lance declared. “Watch!”

With that, he dove straight into the water with the grace of a seal. The cold struck him like a slap, driving the air from his lungs, but Lance was ready for it. With a single powerful kick he was at the surface again, filling his lungs with air. Without needing to think about it, he shifted the quality of his skin, insulating himself against the water as he used to do when he spent his days under the surface of the Bay. The lake was still bracingly cold, but he could breathe without gasping as he tread water, watching Keith with a smirk.

“See?” he said. “I’m totally fine.”

Cirulea gave a wild trill and leapt right in after him. Lance laughed as her entry splash cascaded over him. “Want to try it?” he asked Keith.

“No thanks,” Keith replied. Turning away, he resumed his practice drills.

Lance smiled. Beside him, Cirulea surfaced with a happy whistle, taking to the water like a duck. “More room fun for us, then,” he said to her. 

Together they both dove back under the surface of the water. This close to the shore it was easy to reach the bottom. Lance walked along the muddy reeds for a short distance. The water was too murky to see far, but he could make out the shadows of fish in the gloom. 

Cirulea swam around him, the dim light dancing off her scales. It was mesmerizing to watch her twist through the water, wings held tight to her sides, using her tail to propel her. If Lance had any doubts before, they were gone now; Cirulea belonged in the water.

As Cirulea resurfaced, Lance followed her. He was surprised to see Keith and Ignia looking at them, though Keith quickly turned away.  _ What’s his deal?  _ Lance wondered.

Cirulea squirted water at his ear, distracting him. “Hey!”

Delighted at the attention, Cirulea dove back under the surface as if to escape. “Oh, I’ve got you now!” he cried.

Lance was a skilled swimmer, but Cirulea proved much quicker than he expected. She slipped just out of his reach, darting this way and that. Soon they were both gliding through the water for the pure joy of it. Cirulea danced around him with abandon, and in that moment Lance felt he too was exactly where he was meant to be.

In the space of a blink, the gloom around him was brought into vivid clarity, almost as if the water were glowing from within. He stared wide-eyed at the brilliant shades of blue and green, twice as bright as they ought to be. Then his vision turned, and suddenly Lance was seeing himself in the water. His eyes were a much deeper blue than he’d ever seen, and his Altean marks were glowing with a soft light. Lance blinked in surprise, and the curious vision went away. The daze was broken and he realized quite suddenly he was almost out of air. 

Lance kicked up to the surface and Cirulea followed. His heart was beating fast as he realized what just happened. “I saw you!” he said to Cirulea as she poked her head out of the water, pale eyes wide. “I mean, you saw me, and I saw… I saw me too!”

Cirulea’s crest unfurled and she whistled happily.

“Can you show me that again?”

In response, Cirulea dove back below the water. Lance laughed, overjoyed.  _ I saw through a dragon’s eyes!  _ Grinning, he dove in after her, eager to try again.


End file.
